


Deus Ex Machina

by kerravon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Distrust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Exhaustion, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Whump, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerravon/pseuds/kerravon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Trinity, Sheppard, McKay, and Zelenka are at a remote lighthouse to finish a murdered scientist's research. Now it seems someone really doesn't want the work completed, and isn't above killing again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deus Ex Machina

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fanfiction, and as such is for fan enjoyment only. All recognizable characters/settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is made.

 

 

 

# Deus Ex Machina

 

By KerrAvon

 

1.  Setting Out

 

"Bottom line: do the Deltarrans have something or not?"  Elizabeth's no-nonsense question cut through the escalating discussion like a knife.  Silence dropped over the table as Zelenka and McKay exchanged awkward glances, Rodney finally glancing away, deferring to Radek to answer the query.

 

"We're not certain.  That is why we would like the chance to look over Dr. Seinlein's data in greater detail."

 

Dr. Weir's lips thinned in frustration as Zelenka stuttered out his answer, then glanced at the silent Canadian.  Under normal circumstances Rodney would have already voiced his opinion _and_ backed it up with half a dozen other possibilities, but he had been increasingly hesitant since the Doranda disaster.  Elizabeth found his deference to his co-worker disconcerting.  She had expected "The Ego That Wouldn't Die" to bounce back with its usual aplomb, but something was different this time.

 

Tuning out the Czech as his explanation droned on, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the opposite side of the table.  She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew why McKay's confidence was flagging, and it sat slouched in a chair before her, doodling absently on a notepad.

 

Sheppard wasn't looking too well himself.  Under the extreme circumstances forced upon them by life in the Pegasus Galaxy, the two men had formed an unlikely friendship, which had been solidified by the innumerable life-or-death situations they had subsequently experienced.  Unfortunately, such a friendship is based on incredible trust, and Sheppard clearly believed that McKay had betrayed that trust.  Weir had expected them to recover with time, but John seemed more exhausted and angry every day, while Rodney was positively shrinking into himself.  Something had to be done, and soon.

 

Zelenka's explanation finally petered out, and he looked up at her expectantly.  "All right," she began, hiding the fact that she'd been ignoring his monologue, "I'll give you two weeks.  Will that be enough time to come to a decision?"

 

Radek glanced nervously at McKay, who shrugged nearly imperceptibly.  Looking back at the commander, he nodded, "Yes…yes I think so.  We should be able to determine if he was onto something by that time, yes, and whether it is worth pursuing."

 

"Then the two of you gather whatever supplies you need.  I'll contact the Deltarran science council and let them know you'll be coming.  Dismissed."

 

She stood, straightening her papers as the rest of the room filed out.  Glancing up, she was surprised to see Dr. Beckett standing nervously by the door, obviously waiting for her.  "Yes, Carson?  Can I help you?" she asked curiously.

 

"Do ye have a minute?  I'd like to talk to ye…privately."

 

Elizabeth frowned.  This sounded serious.  "Certainly.  Why don't we go to my office?"

 

\---------------------------

 

"Look, I don't know how you're gonna make him do it, but John Sheppard is in _desperate_ need of a vacation."  Carson Beckett leaned forward towards Weir's desk as he spoke, emphasizing his words.  "The man has been through hell, and he's not allowing himself to recuperate.  It's gotten worse in the last few weeks; he's not sleeping well, he hardly eats, and he's snapping at everyone.  At this rate he'll collapse out of pure exhaustion, and I'm not certain I'll be able to put him back together again."  He carded a hand through his already-unruly hair in frustration, then folded them on his knees.

 

Elizabeth Weir tapped a pencil to her chin.  She had hoped that she'd been exaggerating the sunken eyes, the slumped shoulders, the listless demeanor…but clearly if Carson was concerned enough to bring it to her attention, John's health must be suffering.  _'It's just such bad timing!'_ she thought in frustration.  With Colonel Caldwell making not-so-surreptitious plays for power on an almost daily basis, the last thing she needed was for her Chief Military Officer to be incapacitated.  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to remain calm; bad timing or no, LTC Sheppard had a problem and it was up to her to make certain it got fixed.  Her mind sorted through the possibilities as Beckett sat staring at his folded hands.

 

"Have you discussed this with Colonel Sheppard?"

 

Beckett looked up sharply to meet her gaze.  "Oh, aye, and was basically told to bugger off.  He's not going 'on vacation', 'sick leave', or 'taking time off';  'I have too many responsibilities' says he."  The physician snorted derisively and stood to pace.

 

Weir picked up a pen from her desk and began playing with it.  "Do you think this might have something to do with what happened with the Ancient power source?"

 

Beckett stopped walking as if shot, then sat heavily into his chair.  After a long moment, he met her eyes squarely and nodded.  "Aye, that I do.  He seemed to _love_ being the Chief Military Officer until McKay blew up that solar system; now it's as if the wind is out of his sails.  I'm not sure why, but he's furious, and it's eating him alive."  He sighed in frustration.  "He refuses to even acknowledge that there's a problem.  Says 'everything's fine' and won't see Heightmeyer.  Bloody lot of good that stubbornness will do if he collapses on a mission."

 

Weir stared at the doctor thoughtfully, an idea beginning to form.  "Back that up, Carson.  What did you just say?"

 

"That his being a royal git is useless if he keels over."

 

"No, no, that's not it.  I was thinking about sending him on a mission where he'd have no choice but to rest."

 

Beckett's eyebrows crawled towards his hairline as he considered the possibilities.  "Aye, that could work.  Teyla is taking Ronon to meet the Athosians on the mainland for a few weeks; perhaps LTC Sheppard could accompany them."

 

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head.  "No, I'm afraid that won't do.  Teyla confided to me that she is actually taking Ronon there to help with the harvest; Dex doesn't know it yet, but he has two weeks of very hard work coming.  No, I was thinking of sending him to Deltarra with Rodney and Radek."

 

"But his main problem is with McKaaa…y…" objected Carson, who trailed off as his mind played out the possibilities.  "Two weeks in a secluded lighthouse with just those two…"

 

"He and McKay will either work things out or kill each other," Elizabeth concluded.

 

Carson grinned, "A win-win situation?"  Sobering, he continued, "As I recall from the briefing, they'll be staying at a renovated lighthouse on a remote coast since the scientist originally working on the project was a bit of a misanthrope who shied away from people.  There's a small village nearby, but not much else."  Carson smiled again and shrugged.  "Even if they don't discuss things, Sheppard'll be bored to tears; he'll at least come back well-rested!"

 

"I'll make the arrangements."  Weir smiled back as they both stood, then watched as Carson exited.  She could have sworn she heard him mutter "Poor Dr. Zelenka" as the door slid shut behind him.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

"How are preparations coming for your trip to Deltarra?"  Weir had asked McKay and Zelenka to report to her office shortly after Beckett left.  The two men stood uncomfortably just inside the door to her office.

 

Rodney was confused and exchanged a glance with Radek; Elizabeth usually didn't want procedural details, she wanted results.  Clearing his throat nervously, he replied, "They're loading the equipment onto Jumper Two right now; we take off at 0800 tomorrow.  We'll Gate to Deltarra and fly to Dr. Seinlein's lab, where the equipment will be off-loaded, along with supplies for two weeks.  By the end of that time, we'll have discovered if the good doctor was onto something or was just getting a free ride from his government before he died."  He shrugged expressively.  "Then the Marines will return for us, we'll give our assessment to the authorities, and fly back home.  Nothing to it."

 

Weir stood and paced.  "You know, Rodney, I've been thinking..."  Picking up her paperweight, she studied it unseeingly a moment before setting it down and fixing Rodney with an intense stare.  "We have a lot of enemies out there; I don't like the idea of you and Dr. Zelenka being without protection for two weeks on an unfamiliar planet."

 

McKay briefly assumed his old self-satisfied smirk.  "I should think so.  We're the brightest minds in the Pegasus Galaxy."

 

 _'Deep breath, Elizabeth, deep breath…'_ Aloud she continued, "Well, the Deltarrans aren't stupid.  And with this lab being so remote…"

 

"You think there might be problem?"  Zelenka sat heavily into a chair, worry suddenly blanketing his face.

 

Elizabeth's expression was simultaneously calming but mirrored the concern.  "Probably not, but it doesn't hurt to be safe.  I insist that you have some protection."  She raised an eyebrow.  "I'm assigning LTC Sheppard to accompany you."

 

"Sheppard?  Why the Colonel?"  McKay asked in confusion.  "He is much too busy…"

 

"To guard the safety of our two top scientists?"  Weir's tone became indignant.  "I think not.  Besides, I think the Colonel will appreciate a break from his paperwork."  Grimacing, she looked at her own cluttered desk and muttered, "I know _I_ would…"

 

Rodney blinked; this had all happened awfully fast.

 

Elizabeth continued, ignoring his confusion.  "Still, I urge you to remember that he _is_ the Chief Military Officer…if it's a matter of security, his word is law."  She stared at the two quite pointedly. 

 

"Of course, Elizabeth," McKay assured her uncomfortably.  Zelenka nodded with more enthusiasm.

 

She stared at them for a minute through narrowed eyes.  "All right, then.  Have a safe trip."  She watched the two men stand, shrug at each other, and depart before she allowed herself to blow out the breath she'd been holding.  Well, that handled McKay; now for the hard part…

 

\--------------------------

 

"But why do _I_ have to go?"  Sheppard was slumped in a chair, having received the assignment with less than aplomb.

 

Elizabeth would swear that she had heard four-year-olds whine less.

 

"Because, _Colonel_ Sheppard, you're the most qualified person on this base to keep an eye on them."

 

Flattery was not an effective a motivator in the combat pilot.  Spreading his arms in frustration, he complained, "Look, I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork, OERs are due in a month, and if I don't have a detailed resupply list for the Daedalus the next time it makes the trip from Earth, I'm going to have over 500 irate soldiers and civilians battering down my door."

 

"So take the paperwork with you.  Just _go."_ Elizabeth leaned towards him in emphasis.  "That's an order."  She raised an eyebrow, silently challenging him to object.

 

"Yes, Ma'am."  Despite the exhaustion in Sheppard's voice, it still dripped sarcasm as he rose to his feet with none of his usual fluidity and shuffled to the door.  Weir hoped that this forced break might get him a little rest, or at least get him back on speaking terms with the Science Chief.

 

2\. The Lighthouse

 

"Kind of…gothic, isn't it?" commented McKay as the three men stood and stared at their new temporary home while the two soldiers escorting them unloaded their gear into the building.  Despite the sunny day, the lighthouse appeared to be brooding, crouched on the cliff edge like an ancient forgotten battlement.  The walls were made of a dark stone, the masonry visibly crumbling in places.  Moss and ivy covered a majority of the five-story tower, although the wider base of the building had been recently cleaned.  There was little ground cover leading up to the hulking edifice; just jagged rock of various dark hues with a gravel path snaking towards it.  A brisk ocean breeze chilled them in defiance of the summer sunshine; Rodney was certain the structure would look more at home in the gloom of a storm.

 

"Shall we?"  Sheppard asked in a cold monotone, gesturing forward with businesslike precision.  McKay's eyes slid sideways at the man; he'd been uncharacteristically quiet on the whole trip, and now seemed downright sullen.  Rodney suddenly wondered if Sheppard's attendance on this mission had been…somewhat less than voluntary.  Gulping uneasily, he hoisted his rucksack, mentally shrugged and forced a jaunty air. 

 

"Sure, why not?" he replied.  "I'd like to get a good look at Seinlein's notes first hand."  The three men headed up the slope.

 

Inside they were greeted unexpectedly by a delegate from the Deltarran Commission of Science.  Standing in the midst of their mounds of equipment, the pudgy faced, ruddy man emanated welcome and good will, reminding Sheppard of a shopping mall Santa Claus.  The ingratiating fellow made a beeline for McKay, who instinctively took a step back.  Recovering quickly, he recalled that he'd been introduced to the man during the negotiations at the Capitol.  Casting about his memory, he finally came up with a name.

 

"Dr. Wicket, how nice to see you."  He paused a beat, then narrowed his eyes.  "What _are_ you doing here?"

 

The Deltarran's smile dimmed slightly, "That's _Widget_ " he corrected.

 

Sheppard, standing slightly behind the Atlantis scientists, rolled his eyes and grimaced at McKay's mistake.  _'Typical'_ , he thought in disgust.  _'No attention to detail.'_

 

Dr. Widget's demeanor revived as he waved expansively about the domicile.  "I just wanted to welcome you officially to our planet and see if there's anything you need."

 

Rodney's eyes slitted suspiciously.  He didn't like overly-effusive politician scientist-wannabes and this one made his skin crawl.  He opened his mouth with an acerbic reply when Zelenka stepped forward.

 

"Thank you so much for your generous hospitality, but we are fine."  Zelenka was at his most polite.

 

Dr. Widget looked momentarily confused, but quickly resumed his prior disposition.  "I'm sure you are, Doctor…?" he hinted broadly.

 

McKay regained control of the conversation.  "If you _must_ know, this is my esteemed colleague, Dr. Radek Zelenka."  After months of working one-on-one with the Czech, Rodney could finally recite his name without a hitch.

 

Radek bowed courteously, "At your service."

 

"And I'm Colonel John Sheppard,"  the pilot interjected before Rodney could introduce him.

 

Widget looked surprised.  "You brought a guard?" he blurted.

 

The colonel raised an eyebrow in askance.  "More of an escort.  You know, sometimes things…happen," he glanced sideways at McKay.  "I'm here to prevent that."  He flashed a quick, feral smile that promised mayhem should anything… _happen_. 

 

The bureaucrat cleared his throat uncomfortably, confused by the threat in Sheppard's eyes.  "Yes…well…there were a few details I thought you might need to know about Bellwick Tower that could save you time…"

 

The one thing Rodney grasped immediately was that the sooner this fellow 'did his duty', the sooner he would leave.  Opening his arms to indicate receptivity, he pointedly ignored Sheppard's comment as he plastered on a fake smile and replied, "We're all ears."

 

Widget turned professional as he strode to the front door.  Indicating a keypad, he stated, "This sets the building alarm system.  Use any four-digit code you like when you set it, and it will require the same code to disarm.  It is rigged to all the outer doors and windows on the first two floors.  When triggered it sounds an alarm not only here and at the local constabulary, but also at the Science Commission's security desk."

 

He pointed to the overhead lights.  "The power for the complex comes from an ethanol generator in the basement, so the security system can't be bypassed by cutting outside powerlines.  The storage tank was filled in anticipation of your arrival, and usually lasts for over a month."

 

Next he led the three Atlanteans into an adjacent room, unnecessarily commenting, "This is the kitchen.  It has been well-stocked for your visit, but you also have a line of credit available at the village store for any items not provided or that you did not bring yourselves.  The water is potable of course."

 

"Of course…" murmured Sheppard, deciding to test it the minute their tour guide departed.  McKay was not alone in his dislike of the smarmy bureaucrat.

 

Re-entering the main room, Widget pointed out two more doors.  "That door," he pointed to the left, "leads upstairs to the sleeping quarters, library, etc.  That one," he indicated the right, "leads to the basement lab and research facilities.  It was there that Professor Seinlein's corpse was discovered.  We have eradicated most of the smell by now, though."  The administrator's previously-pleasant face twisted into a satisfied smirk, transforming the previously-pleasant countenance into a nightmarish mask.

 

McKay nervously edged closer to Sheppard.  "You never mentioned how the professor met his…untimely demise?"  He rolled his hand as he searched for the correct phrase.

 

Widget shrugged nonchalantly.  "He botched the experiment and it blew up in his face.  Creating a feedback loop for a cloaking device that massive and complex is inherently both dangerous and unstable."

 

Zelenka tapped a stylus to his chin, "Surely not as dangerous as creating a shield to cover the entirety of the planet?"

 

Widget started, but quickly regained his composure.  Drawing himself ramrod-straight, he replied, "At least with a shield you have a way to discharge the excess energy created.  And with our Naquada supplies, we can create _a lot_ of energy.  Potentially enough to blow up the planet."  One of the reasons Weir had been anxious to get Deltarra's good will was the possibility of a Pegasus-Galaxy source of the precious substance.

 

Sheppard decided this was becoming awkward, and he _really_ didn't want to broach the topic of exploding planets.  As McKay opened his mouth to argue, Sheppard extended his own hand and interrupted, "It was nice meeting you, Dr. Widget, and thank you for the tour.  I'm certain we can manage from here.  May I have my men take you back to Deltarra Prime?  They're headed in that direction."  He gestured to the two burly Marines standing at parade rest on either side of the front door.

 

Widget paled.  "No, no, that won't be necessary.  I have my own transportation."  Hurriedly he made his farewells and exited, leaving Radek and Rodney staring after him in open-mouthed amazement.  The two soldiers followed him out.

 

"Why'd you run him off?" demanded McKay. 

 

"I, for one, am glad that he did," commented Zelenka, as he began rooting through the crates for his laptop.  "There is dissension in the Deltarran scientific community concerning the best way to protect the populace from the Wraith; some support a planetary cloaking device, while others favor the manufacture of a huge shield."  He nodded towards the departed Deltarran.  "I am certain that you can tell which camp our visitor is in."

 

Rodney only looked confused.  "I'm sorry?"

 

Sheppard, who had knelt and begun sorting out his own personal items, snarled without looking up.  "Come on, Rodney, the man was practically gleeful that the leading scientist on the winning side of the debate was killed in a research accident."

 

"Winning side?"  Rodney was clueless.

 

Patiently Radek explained, "The government only had enough funds for _one_ of the two projects, and Dr. Seinlein was the more…persuasive."

 

Sheppard shot McKay a dirty glance.  "Don't you _ever_ read your mission briefings?"

 

The astrophysicist became defensive.  "I memorized all the data provided on the feedback loop equations, thank you very much.  I simply ignored the…political drivel…as being superfluous."

 

"Then next time, try at least skimming it."  Sheppard's voice dripped sarcasm as he stood with his rucksack and headed for the stairs to the tower.  "I'm going to check out the living quarters, then double-check what 'smiley' told us about the security system and the water."

 

Zelenka continued to wade through the crates until, with a cry of satisfaction, he extricated his PC.  As he straightened, he noted Rodney staring at the front door deep in thought.

 

"About that…why the need for such security in a place this remote?"  McKay gestured to the pad by the door.

 

"Perhaps Dr. Seinlein was concerned about someone sabotaging his research?" suggested Zelenka, sidling up.  "After all, the shield faction was clearly pleased to see it fail.  If we hadn't come along to continue his work, the funding would have automatically reverted to them."

 

McKay was not reassured.  "That's a disturbing thought."  His eyes widened, "You don't suppose…?"

 

"No, I don't," replied Radek firmly.  "An _independent_ investigator concluded that there was no 'foul play' involved.  Do you think Elizabeth would have sent us if she felt we were in any real danger?"

 

"She sent Sheppard along, didn't she?" answered Rodney defensively.

 

Pursing his lips, Radek replied, "I think there might be other reasons for his presence here."  Before Rodney could think about that statement, he hurriedly continued, "And Colonel Sheppard is correct.  Next time, you must read entire mission briefing before departure."  He gestured towards the basement door.  "Shall we examine the laboratory?"

 

"I suppose."  McKay stared thoughtfully at the data entry pad for a moment longer, then followed the Czech out of the room.

 

3\. Exploration

 

Ruck slung carelessly over his right shoulder, Sheppard wearily trudged up the stone steps.  _'Ye gods.  Two full weeks of those two!  I'm not sure how much McKay I can stand right now without resorting to lethal force.'_   With a sigh he reached the first floor landing and pushed the iron-clad door open with a _squeeeeek_ of rusty hinges.

 

"Guess he wasn't the type to do much building maintenance," he muttered with a grimace as he glanced at the corroded metal.  Then his eyes widened as he assimilated the room he'd just entered. "But he did like to read…"

 

While slightly smaller than the lower chamber, it was nevertheless a single circular room with the stairwell in the center.  But the walls!  Books stretched in an unbroken line across the outer circumference from floor to ceiling, extending a good ten feet up.  A few comfortable chairs and tables were scattered about the room as well, perfectly positioned for lounging and reading.

 

Turning about in a complete circle, Sheppard mouthed the word "Wow" then headed towards the nearest shelf to examine the titles.  Running a finger along the spines, he murmured, "Astronomy…mathematics…parapsychology?"  Grasping the last volume, he pulled it out for a closer look.

 

"Of Ghosts and the Supernatural," he read aloud.  Snorting, he replaced the volume and pulled out the next.  "Coastal Ghosts of Note."

 

"This guy had…interesting…tastes in reading material."  He replaced the volume and returned to the stairs, the corner of his mouth quirked up sardonically.  Still, his step was somewhat lighter as he ascended to the next floor; after all, now he had something to pass the time besides paperwork and avoiding Rodney. 

 

The third floor had what appeared to be a circular hallway with four doors; opening the nearest, he discovered a cozy bedroom furnished with tastefully-simple dark wood.  Nodding his approval, he murmured "Dibs" and set his ruck down in the center.  Returning to the hall, he went to check out the other chambers on that level.  All four were practically identical sleeping quarters, each with a simple bed, desk, chair, and wardrobe, and each with a solitary window that overlooked the landscape.  Reconsidering his initial choice, Sheppard moved his equipment to the room with the view overlooking the front entrance; if he was the security, he needed the vantage point.

 

Divested of his pack, he took to the stairs once again.  The fourth floor was unfurnished, and, like the second, consisted of a single circular chamber whose rough-hewn stone walls were more obvious without the books.  The walls were damp with condensation, and a chill breeze whistled through the ill-fitted windows despite the sunlight outside.  "Some draft…" he muttered, then moved on.

 

The steps ended on the fifth level, with a huge, central, rusted beacon that must have once signaled inbound ships of the dangerous rocks below.  Long-since fallen into disuse with the advent of airships on this planet, the framework still stood as a monument to generations of lighthouse keepers and their lonely vigils.  The light originally didn't even run on electricity; he could still see the ethanol line that led to it from the tank below.  _'No wonder they decided to power the place with an ethanol-burning generator; the tank was already here and the pipes already bolted to the walls.'_ Idly the LTC ran his hand along the edge of the reflecting lens as he stared out at the ocean.  Sunlight striking the waves sparkled and danced, causing him to squint and shield his eyes from the glare.  Still, despite the sunny day, he could make out storm clouds gathering on the distant horizon.  "Hope that isn't an omen," he muttered, then sighed.  _'I'm so tired…'_ he thought momentarily, before dismissing the idea as self-pity.  Resolutely he turned and trudged back downstairs to check the alarm system, the water, and his two charges.

 

\-----------------

 

"No, no, no!  That won't work at all."  Zelenka shouldered in front of McKay at the Deltarran computer terminal and began to type furiously.  Jabbing a finger at the new results on the screen, he exclaimed, "What did I tell you?  The feedback is too great.  The buffers as they stand would overload in seconds."

 

"That's not it at all."  Despite being seated, McKay managed to regain control of the keyboard and began entering other data.  Without so much as a glance at the results being tabulated after he hit 'enter', he swung round to glare at the smaller man.  "You weren't adding in the extra compensators."

 

Sheppard stood unnoticed at the door and sighed mentally.  He was now comfortable with the security arrangements in the lighthouse itself, although he planned a trip into town later to check out the 'local constabulary' where the alarm apparently would sound if they were in trouble.  Closing his eyes briefly, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, recalling the recent massive explosion that still haunted his nightmares.  _'McKay's not listening again.  I suppose it was too much to expect 'The Ego That Ate Atlantis' to tone it down for a few months.  I really don't need this right now…'_

 

The Czech scientist stared at the screen, then stood back and gestured violently towards it with both hands.  "Yes, yes…that is _exactly_ what I was talking about!"  His glasses migrated towards the tip of his nose as he crossed his arms over his chest in angry defiance, returning McKay's glare with equal vehemence.  John had to smile; at least the smaller scientist seemed able to hold his own in a shouting match.

 

A look of confusion crossed the Chief Scientist's face, and he swung back towards the screen.  "What are you…" The question died on his lips as the implications of the numbers displayed registered in his brain.  Hitting the keyboard, he murmured, "That can't be right…"

 

Sheppard had come up behind them unnoticed.  "I'm putting my money on Doctor Z," he drawled sarcastically.

 

McKay swung around in surprise and gulped like a fish for a moment before regaining his composure and turning intently back to the computer.  He was brilliant.  He _knew_ he was brilliant.  He just had to prove it to John Sheppard.  Biting his lip in concentration, he fingered a particular equation and pointedly ignored the comment.  "What if we were to adjust the input frequency here…"

 

Uncomfortably shifting his gaze between the two men, Zelenka's curiosity finally got the better of him and he leaned forward to peer nearsightedly at the screen, shoving up his glasses as he did so.  "Perhaps…"

 

Neither scientist took their eyes from the computer as Rodney's fingers danced over the keyboard.  "Dr. Seinlein was either a certified genius or a complete whack-job," commented McKay finally.  "He takes the normal laws of physics…"

 

"And twists them sideways," completed Zelenka without missing a beat.

 

Sheppard snorted.  "Sideways physics notwithstanding, how about I rustle us up some lunch?"

 

McKay's stomach growled appreciatively, as if on cue.  His mind, however, was elsewhere.  "Sure, sure, sounds great," he commented without glancing up.

"Now if we change the wave amplitude at this point…."

 

Sheppard shook his head as he left the room.  Trudging towards the kitchen, he paused at the main room.  Their supplies were strewn haphazardly over the floor and onto the couch from Zelenka's laptop search earlier.  Apparently scientists tended to be slob when they were caught up in a new project.  A few minutes search resulted in the culinary supplies he wanted, and he headed to the stove.  _'We'll have to clean that stuff up later,'_ he resolved, smiling at the prospect.

 

The enticing aroma of vegetable soup drew the scientists out of their basement lair before an hour had passed.  Wide-eyed, the pair wandered into the kitchen to discover their T-shirt-clad Chief Military Officer stirring a large pot over low heat, whistling to himself, and looking more relaxed than he had in weeks.

           

Pulling up a chair to the kitchen table, McKay questioned, "You cook?"  He was constantly amazed by the versatility of the man.

           

Sheppard tensed at the sound of Rodney's voice, then forced himself to relax.  _'McKay didn't mean anything,'_ he told himself as he shot the scientists a crooked grin.  "Of course.  I'm a bachelor; it was cook or starve."  Adjusting the flame of the gas stove slightly, he continued, "I actually sort of enjoy it."

           

McKay stuck his lower lip out in a pout.  " _I_ can't cook…." he muttered under his breath, much to Radek's poorly disguised delight.  Zelenka had grown up in a relatively large family that was always struggling to make ends meet.  Since both parents worked, the children split the household chores among themselves; he'd been cooking for as long as he could remember.

           

Sheppard sent Rodney a questioning glance.  "So what do you eat at home?"

           

McKay was evasive.  "TV dinners, take-out pizza, that sort of thing."

           

John bit his tongue and refrained from commenting on poor nutrition, instead stating, "Well, you'll like this better."  He gestured at the pot.  "I brought a few Athosian vegetables with us to experiment on; when I check out the village this afternoon, I'll see if I can pick up something else."

           

Ladling out three huge bowls, he started towards the table.  "Here, let me help."  Zelenka was at his side in a heartbeat, and moments later all three men were intently devouring their meal.

           

"So, you're going to the village?"  McKay finally managed between mouthfuls.

           

Sheppard nodded without looking up from his bowl.  "Yeah, I figured that since I was on security detail, I'd check out the 'local constabulary' office where the alarm supposedly rings, see what kind of staffing and weapons backup might be available should we need them."

           

Zelenka choked on a carrot.  After a bit of coughing and over-enthusiastic back-pounding by Rodney, he managed to squeak out, "So you think we _are_ in danger?"

           

Sheppard quirked up his mouth and snorted. "Not really, but I'd be remiss in my duty if I didn't know all my options.  Hey, it might not be my normal line of work, but I _have_ run security details in the past.  You just enjoy two weeks of playing 'mad scientist', and let me do the worrying."

           

Zelenka glanced around nervously, then nodded and continued his meal.

           

After they cleared the dishes, the two scientists headed back to the lab as Sheppard snagged his jacket from a nearby rack.  "I'll be back in a couple of hours; try not to blow anything up in the meantime!"  His tone of voice was only half-joking as he stared at McKay's retreating back.

 

4\. The Village

 

The stroll to the village was pleasant, and almost entirely downhill; the sun still shown despite the increasing clouds and a soft breeze brought the scent of newly-opened flowers and cut grass to his nostrils… _'Uh-oh.  I wonder if McKay brought anything for his allergies?'_   He smirked at the thought, then cringed.  A stuffed-up, whining McKay was not his idea of a perfect housemate for the next two weeks…

           

When he finally reached the village of Lorton, the first word that sprang to mind was 'quaint'.  Main Street was a dirt road lined for three blocks with wood-sided shops of all sorts, the 'Mom and Pop' variety he remembered from his childhood.  Pleasant-faced women bustled about their shopping, pausing to haggle with various smiling shopkeepers over the price of this or that.  Occasional dog-like creatures trotted about their canine business, sniffing posts and each other along the way.  All-in-all, this place would easily fit on the New England coast.

           

As he strolled past the shopfronts, he noticed a group of eleven and twelve year old boys playing what appeared to be a form of stick ball.  He paused momentarily to watch, grinning lopsidedly at memories of pick-up ballgames he played as a boy.  The dirty-faced kids scrambled over each other like a pack of puppies, delightedly crying, "Get it!"  "Watch out!" and "Wait a second!".  An inadvertent kick sent the orb flying at the pilot, who deftly reached out and snagged it with his left hand.  Within seconds curious kids surrounded him, looking up with questioning gazes.

           

"Looks like you lost something," he commented, tossing the ball back to the apparent ringleader.  The sandy-blonde boy caught it easily, but was more interested in the new arrival than continuing the game.  Tilting his head, he scrutinized the older man through narrowed eyes.

           

"You're not from around here, are you?" he finally asked.

           

"No, I'm not.  My friends and I are staying at the lighthouse for a couple of weeks."  Sheppard jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the path he'd taken to town.

           

"What, Bellwick?"  The child's eyes widened in surprise.

           

"But that place is haunted!" exclaimed another boy.  The first shot him a look that clearly said, _"Shut up"_ , but by then a third had chimed in. 

           

"Yeah, and that scientist died there, too."

           

"He was weird."

           

"Bet the ghost got him!"

           

"Did not!  There's no such thing as ghosts."  The eldest boy tried to reassert his authority in front of the bemused adult.

           

"Sure there is.  Everybody knows that Bellwick is haunted."

           

"Has anyone ever seen this ghost?" interrupted Sheppard with a raised eyebrow.

           

The lads shifted uncomfortably and glanced at each other, as their leader crossed his arms in triumph.  Finally, jutting out his chin in defiance, a brown-eyed chubby boy pouted, "No, but I heard moaning once!"

           

Another chimed in, "And the lights!  Sometimes at night you see them…"

           

At that the cacophony resumed until Sheppard finally put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle.  Instantly everyone's attention was focussed on him again.

           

"Sounds…fascinating.  I'll let you know if we see any spirits lurking around the place while we're there.  Now, can anyone tell me where I can find the constable?"

           

"Sure, mister, right over there."  The oldest boy pointed at a building across the street and a few doors down.  "Why, are you in trouble?" he lowered his voice conspiratorially.

           

"Nah, just thought I'd introduce myself.  Thanks."  With a smile and a nod, he headed towards the indicated edifice.

 

           

A bell jingled predictably upon opening the door, and a man at a desk immediately inside raised his head.  John was suddenly pinned by a pair of sharp, steel-blue eyes that scrutinized his every detail.  Then the sensation was over, and a smile broke over the older man's face as he rose to greet the LTC.

 

The man appeared to be in his late fifties, but in better shape than a lot of thirty year old men John knew.  While he had a full head of brown hair, it was liberally laced with gray, and his beard was salt-and-pepper.  He stood just over six feet tall, and held himself erect like a man who knew his place in the world and was satisfied with it.

           

"You must be one of the strangers working up at Bellwick on ol' doc Seinlein's stuff.  Welcome to Lorton!  I'm Constable Cleary."

           

Shaking the outstretched hand, Sheppard internally marveled at the similarity of this place to Earth.  "Hi.  I'm Colonel John Sheppard.  The Ministry of Science asked my friends to look over the research, and I'm here to make certain they stay safe.  I became a little concerned when I learned that the prior scientist died…accidental, was it?"

           

A cloud passed briefly over the craggy features.  "Yes, I'm afraid so.  His experiments caused an explosion that we could hear all the way down here in the village.  The door was locked, so my men and I had to break in."  He shook his head and clucked his tongue, "What a mess!"  Indicating the alarm monitor, he continued, "That thing goes off whenever the circuit is broken on any of the doors or windows; it didn't even peep until we shattered that window."

           

Sheppard quirked an eyebrow.  "You're not exactly inspiring my confidence, here.  It supposedly rings at the Ministry as well?"

           

Cleary nodded.  "Yes, but it takes them a couple of hours to get here from the city.  The three of us pretty much had things wrapped up by the time they arrived."

 

"I'm sorry; the three of you?"  Sheppard only saw room for one person in the cramped office.

 

Cleary smiled at his confusion.  "Yes, myself and my two assistants, Sgt. Sparso and Sgt. Aule.  We work shifts, but when a major crime occurs we all three get called in."

 

"So who actually found the body?" asked Sheppard with morbid curiosity.

 

"Sparso.  He hit the basement when we showed up to search the place.  Course, he hollered to high heaven when he saw what the good doctor had done to himself.  We had to clean up most of the remains with a spatula."

           

Sheppard winced sympathetically.  "What was Seinlein doing working out here, anyway?  You'd think a scientist would want to be closer to his research associates."  Sheppard smiled disarmingly.  "No offense, but this seems a little…remote."

           

"None taken," the older man replied with a chuckle.  "Those of us who live here like it this way.  Seinlein was the same - not much of a 'people person', if you catch my drift."

           

An image of McKay immediately sprang to mind.  "Actually, I know _exactly_ what you mean.  I've met a few like that myself."

           

"Yeah, strange ducks.  Bellwick seemed to suit him, though.  He hardly ever ventured out of the place.  Too wrapped up in his work I guess."

           

"I guess.  The old lighthouse certainly is an interesting venue for a research lab.  The boys outside seem to think it's haunted."  Sheppard jerked his head in the direction of the resumed game. 

           

The lawman chuckled and shook his head.  "Kids.  They'll believe anything."  He stood to go back to his work.  "Never seen or heard anything substantial myself, but places like that always inspire ghost stories."

           

"I suppose so."  John flashed a winning smile.  "Thanks for your time; nothing personal, but I hope we won't be needing your services."

           

Cleary snorted as he opened the door.  "I hope you won't, either, but we're here if you do.  One of the three of us mans the desk around the clock. You have a nice stay, and let me know if there are any problems."

           

"Thanks, I will."  With that he stepped back out into the afternoon sun.  Squinting down the street, he picked out the grocer's shop and started over to see what the local farms had to offer.  Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a face staring at him from a window across the street, but when he turned to look, it was gone.  Shrugging, he chalked it up to small-town curiosity and went on his way.

 

He passed the boys at the edge of town, returning their eager greetings with a smile and a friendly wave.  A couple of new children had joined the game, and a slender redhead stood to the side watching, hands on hips, just waiting for his chance to jump in.  Sheppard nodded to the child as well, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile as he passed by.

 

By the time Sheppard had hiked back up the slope to the lighthouse with his newly-acquired sack of fruits and vegetables, the threatening clouds had arrived full force, along with a cold, gusty wind that bit into his exposed skin.  The first drops of rain began to splatter on the path as he unlocked the door and maneuvered his purchases inside.  Slamming the door on the elements, he quickly put the bag in the kitchen so he could rub his hands together and get the circulation going again.

 

He became aware of Rodney and Radek arguing, even over the sound of the rain pelting down outside.  Locking the front door again and keying in the security code, he headed towards the basement.

 

"You see?  Right there!"  Rodney stabbed an index finger excitedly at the screen.  The two men were in practically the same positions they had assumed this morning, with McKay in front of the computer and Zelenka peering over his shoulder.  John had seen the two men work together enough to know that their positions could reverse on a dime if Radek got frustrated enough to shoulder Rodney out of his way.  The fact that McKay still sat at the keyboard meant they agreed on the data before them.

 

Radek absently shoved his glasses up his nose as he pointed to the next line in the program.  "And look there.  Is that _interactive?_ "  A beatific smile lit up his face.

 

John, feeling out of the loop, cleared his throat to announce his presence and postulated, "Sooooo…I guess Dr. Seinlein's work is worth pursuing?"

 

McKay was caught up in the excitement of the moment.  Jumping to his feet, he gesticulated towards the viewscreen as Radek stood, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.  "This guy was _good_.  He wasn't actually going to cloak the whole planet, just the inhabited regions.  Simultaneously, he was planning on projecting images that made it appear the cities had _already been culled_."

 

Radek interrupted excitedly, "Any Wraith Hive ships that arrived would just assume that another beat them to the punch, and go away."

 

Sheppard nodded, lower lip protruding.  "Clever….Can you make it work?"

 

"I think so," began McKay with uncharacteristic hesitancy, visibly deflating.

 

"Definitely," reassured Zelenka.  He rocked back and forth on his heels.  John mentally shook his head; it wasn't often that Zelenka was the optimist of the pair.  With any luck Rodney was learning a little caution after blowing up that solar system, he thought with satisfaction.

 

"Well, I'll leave you two to it, then."  Jerking a thumb towards the stairs, he continued, "Also, if you guys don't object, I don't often get a chance to cook anymore…"

 

Radek shot him a grateful smile.  "Dinner would be appreciated."

 

5\. A Late-Night Visitor

 

"That meal was…incredible, Colonel."  Radek was almost speechless as he and Rodney cleared the table.

 

"Yes," commented McKay.  "Who knew vegetables could be so good?"

 

"And good _for_ you," added John with raised eyebrows as if mimicking a mother, schooling his face to complete innocence.

 

"I never really bought that 'Eat your greens' theory," replied Rodney with a bit of his old snark.

 

"Your loss," shrugged the soldier noncommittally.  "Hey, when you two get tired of playing 'mad scientist', the bunkrooms are upstairs.  They're all pretty much identical; I'm taking the one overlooking the front entrance, so I can keep an eye on things.  There are three other rooms; take your pick."  So saying, he rose, deposited his dishes in the sink, and left the room.  He'd done the cooking; someone else could do the dishes.  "I'd better get started on those OERs," he threw over his shoulder as he left.

 

Taking security seriously, particularly in light of the limited support available from the village, he did a sweep of each floor as he headed to his room.  The only sound besides the low conversation coming from the kitchen and the gratifying sounds of china clinking as it was being washed was the rain pounding on the cliff outside.  The windows and doors were secure on the first floor, so he hit the library next.  After assuring that the windows were shielded there as well, he decided to procrastinate on his paperwork by browsing the books.

 

"This looks like the ticket…" he murmured as he pulled out a well-thumbed volume of ghost stories and relaxed into a padded chair.  "Just the thing for a 'dark and stormy night'."  Propping his feet up, he settled down for a good read.

 

Some time later, he was unsure as to how long, he was uncomfortably aware of the sensation of being watched.  Sharply glancing up from the tome in his lap, he surveyed the room.  Nothing seemed out of place, so after a few moments he shook his head and went back to his reading.  "Must be the ghost stories…" he muttered.

 

He hadn't gone more than a few pages before the sensation struck him again.  This time, without moving his head, he slowly raised his eyes and examined the room.  Off to the side, peeking around the shelving, a small carrot-topped head could be seen from the corner of his eye.  Sheppard slowly raised his face, only to watch the boy vanish.  Keeping his voice low and non-threatening, he murmured "Come on out….I know you're there…I won't hurt you…" as he stood.  A wary eye peeked at him, then disappeared.  Lunging in the direction of the child, he stopped short as he rounded the bookcase.  There was no one there.

 

Whirling, he looked behind himself, only to see nothing but books.  A quick jog around the circumference of the library was unrevealing as well _.  'Couldn't be the stairwell; I would've heard him!',_  he thought to himself as he reached for the door.  He hadn't heard the boy exit _or_ enter.  Easing open the door, he winced as the hinges squeaked audibly in their usual annoying fashion.  He paused and listened; no footfalls were audible.  Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed to the first floor.  Throwing open the door, two startled faces greeted him.

 

"Woah, Colonel, something wrong?" asked Rodney after he regained his composure.  "We were just going up to see the rooms.  I have a sensitive back…"

 

Not bothering to look at them, Sheppard peered around the scientists to examine the rest of the chamber and interrupted distractedly, "I don't suppose either of you saw a young boy, about seven or eight, maybe ten, red hair, about so high?"  He held up a hand just below his chest.

 

"What are you talking about?" Rodney demanded querulously.  When Sheppard fixed him with a glare, he stammered, "No…no, no one's come by…"

 

"Damn it!"  Without further explanation, he jerked open the stairwell and headed back upstairs.  He was halfway through searching the sleeping quarters when Zelenka and McKay finally caught up.

 

Leaning forward, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, Rodney gasped, "So…you want…to…tell us…what's going on?"

 

"Ahhh, I saw a kid in the library just a few minutes ago.  He ran away before I could talk to him."  Sheppard dropped to his knees and searched under the bed.

 

"A child?!?" stuttered Zelenka.  "How could a child get in here?  All the doors and windows are secure!"

 

Sheppard looked up and fixed him with an incredulous stare.  "That was one of the things I wanted to _talk_ to him about."

 

Rodney felt the question had to be asked, "Are you sure your mind wasn't playing tricks on you?"

 

"No, it wasn't. I saw someone," Sheppard's eyes glinted angrily.  "He was watching me read down in the library.  Rabbited when I spotted him."  Throwing open the closet door, he continued, "I think he was one of the kids I from the village, the one watching the stickball game when I came out of the grocery.  He must have followed me back."  Deciding that this room was clear, he headed to the last bedroom on the floor.  The two scientists trailed after him.

 

As he knelt to peer under the bed he said, "What really worries me is the fact that he _got in_ here.  There must be some way into the building that we aren't aware of."  He opened the closet, then closed it in frustration.  "Nothing!"

 

"Maybe he left the way he entered?" postulated Radek.

 

Sheppard, hands on hips, took a deep breath and blew it out.  "Well, duh.  That's the point.  I need to know how he did it."  Looking at the two men, he added, "You two go downstairs and recheck the doors, windows, and the security system.  I'll check the upper floors for our guest." 

 

Thirty minutes later the group reconvened in the main hall.  "Everything's clear upstairs," reported John.

 

Zelenka shrugged, "Nothing is out of place down here."

 

"Security system hasn't been tampered with; it's operating perfectly."  Rodney was concerned.  "Are you _sure_ you saw the kid?  You know, when you first fall asleep the subconscious is particularly suggestible; maybe you just dreamt him from seeing him earlier."

 

"I think I know the difference between reality and dreams" John replied acerbically, then sighed.  "Nothing more we can do tonight except keep an eye out for anything."  He closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "And I _am_ pretty tired," he finally admitted.

 

"We'll watch things down here.  Why don't you get some sleep," suggested Radek gently. 

 

Sheppard nodded absently.  "Yeah…yeah, good plan."  So saying, he turned and headed upstairs, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him but refusing to admit it to himself or the others.  _'Way to inspire confidence, Sheppard; start hallucinating.  They're going to have a nice, padded room for you when we get back to Atlantis.'_   As he plodded up the stairs, his mind added with a smirk, _'Maybe they'll just put nice, soft restraints on my bed.._.'

 

Upon entering his room, he pulled the curtain aside and peered into the darkness.  Pounding rain, jagged rocks, and a twisting path were all that he could see.  Tiredly he rubbed his eyes and turned away, stripping off his jacket in the process.  Sitting heavily on the bed, he pulled off his boots then, still mostly clothed, lay back on the still-made bed.  "I'll just rest for a minute," he muttered, draping his arm over his face.  "Then I'll get up and recheck the perimeter…"  Within seconds he was sound asleep.

 

Since Rodney had shattered 'five-sixths" of a solar system while he was in trusting attendance, he hadn't rested much.  He had hoped that a change of venue might improve things, but he was wrong.  As he had for the last two weeks, within thirty minutes he was in REM sleep, the nightmares began, and he was on Doranda.

 

_"The weapon's discharging to prevent a catastrophic overload!," McKay cried out, slightly panicked as a nearby panel exploded._

_"Alright, that's it. We're outta here," he heard himself saying._

_McKay shook his head in denial, "It's not safe! The weapon's firing at random targets above the planet. This is the safest place to be right now!"_

_"The place isn't gonna be safe for very much longer!"_

_"I can bring it back under control!  Just give me a second!"  McKay frantically worked at the controls in front of him._

_Grabbing his jacket and swinging the astrophysicist to face him, he yelled, "No you can't!"_

_Just then more panels erupted in brilliant showers of sparks, resulting in a single massive discharge as the containment field failed completely.  The universe went to a blistering white._

 

John jerked upright, drenched in a cold sweat and panting heavily.  He stared frantically at the unfamiliar surroundings until his brain dredged up where he'd gone to sleep.

 

"No!" he muttered, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.  "We _lived_!  We made it out before the thing exploded."  Even saying it aloud didn't help much.  It had been a _very_ close thing, and he'd read enough SGC 'parallel universe' reports to wonder if, on a number of planes of existence, they _didn't_. Forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths, he grimaced in denial, "I am not going there."  He glanced down and noticed that he was still mostly dressed.  _'Well, I'm wide-awake now.  Might as well recheck security before I try to go back to sleep.'_

 

\------------------

 

Sunlight streaming in his window awakened the colonel the next day, causing him to sit up in surprise.  Just one nightmare?  He must have been more exhausted than he thought.

 

The smell of fresh coffee wafted to his nostrils, proving that he wasn't the first up this morning.  Quickly brushing his teeth and shaving, he hurried downstairs to find Zelenka happily puttering away over the stove.

 

As Sheppard entered, Radek smiled a welcome.  "I have made coffee and biscuits," he commented, gesturing to the table.  "Help yourself."

 

"Thanks," replied the pilot, pulling up a chair. 

 

"It was the least I could do, given the meals you cooked yesterday," the Czech explained.  "In my hometown I was considered quite a good chef."

 

As he took a bite, Sheppard had to agree.  "Doctor Z, this is great.  Your hometown was right."  He lit into the food with gusto as Zelenka joined him.

 

They were almost through with the repast by the time McKay wandered in.  "Nice of you to join us," remarked Sheppard as he leaned back in his chair.

 

"Nice of you to save me some," Rodney shot back, reaching for a biscuit and grabbing three.

 

"Sleep in?" prodded Sheppard.. 

 

"No," he gestured back in the direction of the basement as he took a huge bite, "I've been up for hours looking at Seinlein's theorems.  Fascinating reading.  Do I smell coffee, too?"

 

Zelenka chuckled,  "Yes Rodney.  Over there.  I'm sure you'll help yourself."

 

McKay did just that, shoveling a second biscuit into his maw as he poured himself a cup.  Sitting across from Sheppard, he deeply inhaled the aroma and closed his eyes in sheer bliss before taking a long sip.  Eyes still shut, he sighed, "Radek, that's the best coffee in two galaxies."

 

The three ate in companionable silence for most of the meal.  Finally, John queried, "So, what's on your agenda for today?"

 

McKay gestured with his cup.  "Radek and I are going to run computer simulations before we work on the prototype.  Dr. Seinlein was an inherently suspicious man, and placed what appear to be _intentional_ errors within the more complex of his subroutines.  We can't be sure we've cleared them all until we run them on our laptops."

 

"Why not use his computer downstairs?" asked Sheppard curiously.

 

"It probably has its own encrypted security measures and hidden malware to misdirect us," explained Zelenka.

 

Sheppard nodded.  "I see."  Pushing back his chair, he rose and headed for the stairs.  "I guess it's paperwork for me, then, and I'm going to take another look around in the daylight.  Call if you guys need anything.  Trust me, I'll be _happy_ to have an excuse."  He shot them a crooked grin as he left.

 

The events of the previous night seemed almost dreamlike in the light of day, to the point that he almost believed it _had_ been his imagination.  Still, he'd feel better after one more unsuccessful search for a secret passage, this time in the daylight.  Shrugging when he turned up empty-handed, he resigned himself and began working on his requisition list.

 

6\. A Close Call

The three men quickly fell into a routine.  Zelenka and McKay were in the lab all hours of the day and night, coming up for air only when forced by hunger or exhaustion.  Sheppard arose with the sun, checked the inside and outside of the lighthouse for any sign of attempted entry, then went for a run.  On nice days he'd jog the edge of the cliff; in inclement weather he stuck to the established roads and paths.  By the time he returned, Radek was typically finishing breakfast preparations, so they all ate together.  Afterwards the scientists would retreat to the basement while the colonel would attack his paperwork or procrastinate in the library.  After one disastrous dinner prepared by Rodney (one would think a 'rocket scientist' would know that you can't 'stir-fry' salad), the unspoken agreement was that John would cook the evening meal.  Fortunately he really _did_ enjoy cooking, so the whole group grew to anticipate his creations.

 

Sheppard, having just returned from the village with an armload of groceries, found himself fumbling with the code on the door lock as he tried to balance his purchases in the other arm.  The day had been cool for summer, but bright and sunny, so he enjoyed the walk tremendously.  Over the past five days he had actually _felt_ his muscles unclench, and McKay didn't seem as annoying anymore.  As he shifted the bag, careful not to drop the eggs, he suddenly caught movement out of the corner of his eye.  Whirling quickly, he found himself face-to-face with the child he'd seen in the library the night they'd arrived.

 

The boy was red-haired all right, with freckles on his face and a sparkle in his eye.  He appeared older now that John got a good look at him, closer to ten or eleven.  He wore jeans complete with ripped knees, a blue-and-white horizontally-striped shirt, and dirty canvas shoes.  He had smudges on his face from playing, and grass stains over clothes and skin.  The mischief in his eyes was reflected in the grin on his face.  John couldn't help but smile back.

 

"Hey there," he said, trying to start a conversation.  Setting the bag slowly on the ground where he was standing, he held his hands out nonthreateningly.  "My name's John; what's yours?"

 

The kid grinned wider, but didn't reply.  Instead, he took a single step backwards as if daring Sheppard to follow him.

 

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you.  I just want to meet the neighbors."  John carefully didn't move for fear of frightening the boy off. 

 

The child was far from frightened.  Instead, he made what Sheppard could only assume was a rude gesture, then stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.   Giggling at the joke, the child turned and took off towards the village.

 

"Wait!  I want to talk to you!"  In a heartbeat Sheppard was after him, chasing down the path.  Despite his own good physical condition, the boy quickly outpaced him and disappeared from view.  Panting, the colonel gave up and trudged back towards the lighthouse. 

 

About ten yards away from the door he heard an odd grinding, followed by the sound of skittering pebbles.  Thinking that the boy might have returned to play 'chase' again, he whirled around.  Nothing.  No movement anywhere.  His eyebrows creased as he tried to determine the source of the odd noise.  It _seemed_ to be coming from the lighthouse itself…

 

He glanced back just in time to see an enormous stone fall from the tower and crush his bag of groceries before the door with a sickening thud.  "Son of a….!" he cursed, dashing to the building.  His first instinct was that the child had somehow doubled back, sneaked upstairs, and pushed it off.  However, his entire exchange with the kid had lasted under three minutes, and _nobody_ was that fast.  Examining the rock, it was also obvious that no ten-year-old boy could have shifted it, much less dropped it with such precision.  No, it had probably just broken from the old building, and sheer bad luck guided its landing.  Staring upwards, he tried unsuccessfully to see where it had come from.  High above him, around the fourth floor, he _thought_ he could see a raw spot where it had fractured off, but he couldn't be certain.  Grunting, he shoved the rock and rolled it aside, clearing what was left of his sack.  The food was crushed beyond recovery.

 

He picked up a broken eggshell and gave a low whistle.  "Well, kid, I owe you one.  That would have been my head if I wasn't chasing you."  Inputting the security code of the day, he pushed open the door.  "I guess we'll make do with what we have in the kitchen tonight."

 

\-------------------------

 

Dinner that evening was a sullen affair, as McKay and Zelenka disagreed as to how to proceed and had argued loudly and vehemently for most of the day.  The destruction of the fresh vegetables and eggs did nothing to improve their mood, although there was much speculation as to why the child had appeared when he did and whether or not he was somehow responsible.

 

"Nah, it was just coincidence," concluded John as he cleared the table.

 

"Still, it is interesting that only you have seen the child," replied Zelenka.

 

John shrugged, "Yeah, you two don't get out much."

 

"Yes, well, we're working on the prototype.  And I'd like to make at least one test run before we turn in for the night."  McKay stood and started towards the door.

 

Radek, in uncharacteristic anger, shot, " _No,_ Rodney.  I keep telling you that there is something _wrong_ with the feedback equations.  It is too dangerous."

 

"What?!?  I keep asking you to point out the flaw, and you can't.  Could it be because, oh…I don't know… _there isn't one_?"  McKay snarled.

 

This whole conversation sounded eerily familiar, and John involuntarily flashed back to Doranda.  There was _no way_ he would let Rodney destroy another planet; besides, this one was heavily populated, and he kind of liked those village kids.  It was time for a command decision.

 

"McKay, if Zelenka says wait, we wait.  We've only been here five days and you're already talking trial runs.  We've got well over a week still to go, and I'm sure Elizabeth will let you stay longer if you think you need it."

 

Rodney rolled his eyes.  "That’s not the point.  We are ready to test out the model; Radek's just afraid to do it."

 

"Yes, Rodney, I _am_ afraid."  Zelenka slammed both palms on the table for emphasis.  "I am afraid of being blown to bits by an untested device containing enough Naquada to power Atlantis for a year!"  Throwing down his napkin, he waved an index finger beneath McKay's nose.  "We have been through this.  We need to run more simulations.  I tell you something is wrong!"

 

"Rodney…" Sheppard began warningly.

 

"Oh, come _on._   Just because Doctor Ignoramus…Doctor _Irrational_ Ignoramus…over there says no," McKay objected.

 

"That's it.  I am going for a walk.  If you insist on creating explosions, please to do it while I am out!"  Radek's English became more stilted when he was upset.  Grabbing his jacket from the rack by the door, he punched in the code and was gone into the dimming evening light.

 

Sheppard turned to the senior scientist.  "Very mature, Rodney.  Reminds me of the kid earlier; you know, the one who stuck out his tongue to make a point."  A deadly glint in his eye, he concluded, "My decision stands.  Until you _both_ agree to proceed, you _will_ be running nothing but computer simulations.  Or do I need to remind you that it's 'an inexact science', or that this prototype is what killed Dr. Seinlein?"

 

McKay, who had been glaring defiantly up to that point, suddenly looked away, unable to meet Sheppard's eyes.  "Yes…well…umm…OK, I'll wait for Radek to agree."  Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he stammered, "I'll just go down…and…go through a few more computer trials, shall I?"  Without waiting for a reply, he slumped out.

 

Sheppard called to his departing back, "I'd better go find Dr. Z.  The grocer said it's supposed to storm tonight, and I don't want him to get lost."  Snagging his own jacket, he hurried out after the diminutive Czech into the gathering darkness _.  'Now if I can only figure out which way he went…'_

 

Pausing for a moment on the doorstep, he scanned his surroundings for any sign of the smaller man.  Instead, a flash of red hair caught his eye, interrupting his previous mission.  "Hey!  I want to talk to you!" he cried out, breaking into a run.  The scamp grinned gleefully and took off; the chase was on.

 

 

Zelenka for his own part stomped off in a crimson huff.  He had worked with insufferable, pompous scientists before, none of whom had McKay's brilliance, nor were they as infuriating as McKay was.  Perhaps it was precisely _because_ Rodney was so gifted that he was so irritating.  He was like a kid with a science fair project who ran a few trials then extrapolated the rest of the data out of boredom; McKay's mind jumped to the most logical conclusion provided by the initial observations, and then acted.  His intelligence made him right ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, but the point-one percent of the time that he was wrong…it was spectacular.  Radek did have to admit, however, that McKay's tendency to jump to conclusions and quickly act on them had certainly come in handy with many of the crises they had almost daily.  But if he would just slow down and do some of the tedious detail work when they weren't in a rush…he could be _amazing_.

 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Zelenka stopped, sighed heartily, and stared out over the ocean.  Water had always been calming; as a young man he often found himself on the Charles Bridge staring at the Vltava River as it flowed beneath his feet.  On Atlantis he had merely to go out onto any balcony whenever McKay became too much to bear.  Tonight his feet had subconsciously taken LTC Sheppard's running trail along the cliff edge, so now he stood watching the majesty of the sunset in neon hues of pink, orange and gold spread out before him.  Picking up a pebble from the ground at his feet, he flung it with all the might of his pent-up frustration out towards the sea.  The water was too far down for him to hear the splash, but it felt good to do nonetheless.  Sighing once more, he decided to walk just a few more minutes before turning back.  He definitely didn't want to be wandering around after dark.

 

He hadn't gone more than a few yards before, rounding a corner, the ground suddenly gave way beneath his feet.  With a startled yelp he slid over the edge of the cliff…

 

7.      Rescue

 

"Hey, come back!  I'm not going to hurt you!"  Sheppard found it hard to sound reassuring when he was running full-out in pursuit of the boy.  Still, he had to try.  "I just need to ask you a couple of questions!"

 

The pair sprinted over the rocky terrain, the gap between the ten-year-old boy and the thirty-some man widening perceptibly with every step.  Despite his shorter stature the child flew like the wind, his mischievous laughter floating back to the pilot tauntingly.  However, the older man thought he recognized the terrain they now covered from his jog that morning, and a knowing smile played on his lips.  _'If I'm not mistaken, just over that rise is a dead end where the cliff juts over the sea; unless he can fly, there's no way back except past me.'_   The boy disappeared over the top of the anticipated rise, Sheppard hot on his heels.

 

Cresting the hill himself, the colonel stopped short in confusion.  Before him lay the promontory just as he expected, but the child was nowhere to be seen.  "What the…?" Sheppard began.  Staring incredulously at the cliff in front of him, his brows drew together in consternation, "That's just not possible!  There's no place for him to go!"  He turned around in a full circle in total wide-eyed disbelief. 

 

_'Nothing!  It's as if he disappeared off the face of the planet.'_

 

A faint cry of "Help!  Somebody help me!" floated to his ears over the sound of the crashing waves. 

 

Whirling to face the cliff, the pilot's eyes widened further in horrified realization; _'Oh my God.  The kid's fallen over the side!'_

 

Taking off at full speed again, he yelled, "Hang on!  I'm coming!"  Once he got within a few feet of the edge, he noticed that the stone had been loosened and looked none too steady.  To maximize his stability, he threw himself to the ground and low-crawled until he could peer over the edge.

 

Rather than the relatively small boy he expected, Sheppard was shocked to see a full-grown man clinging to the cliff face with whitened knuckles.  Recognition dawned, and he asked incredulously, "Doctor Zelenka?"

 

Radek's rational mind knew that only a few minutes had passed since he had fallen and Sheppard's head had appeared above him, but it seemed like an eternity.  When the cliff edge crumbled beneath his feet he scrambled for grip on the loose stone, his left hand encountering a protruding root at the same time his toes hit a narrow ledge.  Hanging on for dear life, he dug the tips of his right hand into the first crevice he could find until they were bloody. The crashing waves far below him threw up a fine, cold mist as they exploded on the jagged rocks that quickly soaked him to the skin, but he was too terrified to shiver in reaction.  Face plastered wetly against the frigid granite, he screamed for help until he was hoarse, all the while recognizing that the probability of rescue was nearly nil.  By the time the pilot materialized, Zelenka's hands were cold and beginning to cramp, while the toes of his boots barely held their purchase and his legs were beginning to seize up as well.  He had just about given up hope.

 

"Oh, Colonel Sheppard, thank God.  I didn't think anyone would hear me."  The relief in the Czech's voice was palpable.

 

Despite recognizing how ridiculous his next question was going to sound, Sheppard couldn't help himself.  "I…don't suppose…you saw a kid go by here?"

 

Radek blinked up at him incredulously through mist-fogged glasses, unable to form a coherent answer.  Sheppard grimaced at the inanity of his own question and shook his head as if to clear it.  Staring down, he could see both the scientist clinging to the cliff and the jagged boulders far below.  "Don't worry, Doc, we'll get you out of this."  _'Hold on, Radek, hold on, hold on,'_ he chanted to himself, as if by force of will he could prevent the scientist from falling.

 

Zelenka, comforted by the presence of another human being, dared a small peek at the ocean only to gasp audibly and squeeze his eyes tightly shut as a wave of vertigo hit him.  He pressed his face further into the rock as he began to hyperventilate.

 

Sheppard needed to calm him, and fast.  Assuming his most soothing tones, he called, "OK, doc, it'll be OK.  Just don't look down again.  Come on, look up at me."  Sheppard kept his voice calm and steady despite the cold tendrils of fear crawling in his stomach; Zelenka must be terrified.  Hell, _he_ was terrified!  Scooting forward as far as he dared, he tried to maneuver himself to where he could grasp a wrist, but only managed to brush the other man's fingertips.  Radek moaned in fear at the touch.

 

"Doc, I need you to look at me; I'm lowering my belt to you.  I need you to grab it and I'll haul you out of there."  So saying, Sheppard shifted his position on the path until his knee was firmly wedged behind a jutting outcropping of rock that he hoped could support their combined weight.  Once he was satisfied that he was as braced as he could be under the circumstances, he slipped off his belt then buckled it into a loop.  Thrusting his hand through the loop, he wrapped it once firmly around his wrist as well; the only way he was letting go was if someone severed his arm.  "OK, I'm lowering it now!" he called out.

 

Radek slowly cracked open his eyes, taking care to look only up at the soldier and the descending line.  Once it reached the level of his hand, he stared at the belt as if it were a snake then closed his eyes and keened, "No, I can't." 

 

"Come on, inch your hand over just a tiny bit…" John was encouraging as he literally swung the belt so that it rested on the edge of the scientist's right hand.  "You can do it, Radek!  Just ease your hand over slowly…you can feel it, right?  Just concentrate on inching your hand onto the belt…there's a loop so you won't slip out once you have it…come on…."  Sheppard was half hanging over the cliff himself as he tried to cajole Radek into grabbing the leather lifeline; as he saw the scientist's hand slowly moving, he dug in his own toes for a more secure anchor.

 

Finger by finger Radek's hand eased onto the belt until he had it firmly between his palm and the rocky handhold.  Carefully and oh-so-slowly he wound his wrist through the loop.  John glanced back and reassured himself that he was as secure as possible before taking the other man's weight, then addressed the trembling scientist.  It was clear the other man couldn't hold on for much longer.

 

"OK, Radek, I need you to hang onto the belt with _both_ hands, and I'll pull you up.  Got it?"

 

"I _can't_!"  The cry was pure terror.  "I'll fall!"

 

John took a deep breath.  "You'll fall if you _don't_.  You're already shaking from exhaustion.  Come on, We'll start slow.  As I begin to pull upwards, it'll be second nature for you to want to grab it with both hands.  Ready?"

 

"Noooo…." The Czech whimpered, then closed his eyes, gulped, and nodded.  "Yes…OK.  I'll try."

 

"Don't worry; you'll do it.  All right then.  On three."  Sheppard watched in satisfaction as Zelenka looped the belt around his right wrist a second time.  "OK….one….two…." he could see the man below tensing…"three."  He began to slowly shimmy backwards on his abdomen, pulling upwards on the belt gradually as he did so.

 

 _'Come on, Zelenka, hold on,'_ he thought desperately.  _'Don't let go.  You can do it…just a little farther.'_

 

On three, Radek released his hold on the cliff with his left hand, switching it to the leather strap around his right.  At the same moment there was increasing pressure on the strap, slowly pulling him upwards.  His arms, already spasming from the cold and prolonged effort, began to burn in earnest.  Biting his lip to distract himself from the pain, he clung desperately to Sheppard's belt as he agonizingly ascended.  By the time movement stopped, his elbows and chest were up onto the cliff edge, giving him a more secure hold.  His feet scrabbled vainly for purchase, but only momentarily.  Sheppard's hands were suddenly looped under his armpits, hauling him completely over the side and onto solid ground.

 

The two men lay panting on the path for quite a few minutes, basking in the glow of just being alive.  Sheppard was the first to break the silence, rolling over to where he could better see the scientist in the twilight.  "You gonna live, Doc?" he asked in concern.

 

Radek nodded, pushing himself to a sitting position and adjusting his glasses which he had miraculously retained.  "Y…Yes, thanks to you.  I've never been so frightened in my life; I was certain that I would fall."

 

"But you _didn't_.  You grabbed that line and held on like a champ."  _'Or like your life depended on it,'_ Sheppard thought, but didn't say aloud.  Standing, he brushed the dust off his trousers, then held out a hand to help the other man rise.

 

Unfortunately the shock of his ordeal suddenly hit Radek full force, and, rather than taking the proffered hand, he wrapped trembling arms about himself and curled into a shivering ball.  Rocking back and forth, his eyes glazed over and he began chanting "Oh God, oh God, oh God…" rhythmically.

 

Sheppard's brows creased in renewed concern as he squatted next to the shaking scientist, wrapping an arm around Radek's shoulders both for warmth and reassurance.  "It's OK, you're fine," he repeated over and over, gradually stilling the other man.  He wasn't sure how long they sat like that, but the light had dimmed to near-dark and the temperature was beginning to fall.  John was loath to disturb Zelenka, but he was increasingly concerned about hypothermia and shock.

 

"Come on, Radek.  You're soaked clear through, and it's getting dark and cold out here.  We need to get you back to that nice, warm lighthouse."  He chuckled to himself, "Besides, Rodney will be worried."

 

Still trembling, Zelenka snorted in amusement, then managed a shaky nod.  "More likely he will not know we were gone," he muttered.

 

Gently grabbing his arm, John managed to haul him to his feet.  He draped Radek's right arm over his shoulders and snaked his left around the other man's waist, supporting the majority of his weight.  "Slow and easy, now.  Just keep moving.  I'll make sure you don't fall."

 

As the two men carefully made their way back to the lighthouse in the nearly complete darkness, Radek finally gathered enough wits to ask, "Not that I'm complaining, but what were you doing out on that cliff anyway, Colonel?"

 

Sheppard shrugged.  "Well, initially I was looking for you, but I ran into that kid from this afternoon.  When I tried to talk to him, he took off running.  I'd _swear_ he ran onto the top of that cliff, but the only person I found was you."

 

Pulling out a handkerchief to clean his glasses as they walked, Zelenka grunted, 'It seems I now owe the child my life as well."  Taking a sideways glance at the pilot, he continued, "I think next it is McKay's turn."

 

Sheppard chuckled, "If you say so, doc."

 

8\. Recollections of Rio

 

When Sheppard headed out after Zelenka, Rodney plodded down to the lab, grousing to himself. _'OK, so I did almost blow us both up.  He doesn't have to keep throwing it in my face like that.  Still, if it hadn't been for Colonel Caldwell…'_ he forced his mind away from that train of thought.  _'Everyone else has gotten over it already.  Why can't Sheppard trust me again?"_  

 

He grimaced and muttered, "Because we were at ground zero, you idiot."

 

As he opened the door to the lab, he sighed.  _'I am going to make absolutely certain that nothing screws up again.'_  Shuffling over to the desk where they'd set up the computer simulations, he sank into the chair and began inputting hypothetical data.

 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been working when his eyelids began drooping.  He felt warm and safe, and began to dream that he was at the carnival his parents took him to as a child.  There had only been the once, but he still remembered the caramel apples and the cotton candy.  He'd eaten so much he'd gotten sick, and his parents didn't even get mad when he threw up in the back of the car.  Of course, that evening they told him they were getting a divorce.  Still, that carnival was one of his fondest memories; he could almost smell the cotton candy…Then his dream turned ugly; he was sitting in front of the shield prototype, eating cotton candy.  With sticky fingers he threw the activation switch…and the machine began to overload.  His dream-self switched to a Jumper with Sheppard, outracing the explosion, only this time the Daedalus wasn't there …

 

Startling awake, he shook his head to clear it, then pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.  _'A dream.  Just a dream,'_ he told himself, despite the sugary scent that seemed to linger in the air.  _'I shouldn't be this tired…'_ Rolling back his shoulders to ease the tension that had lodged there, he began massaging a kink out of his neck as he glanced at his terminal.  Eyes widening in dismay, he forgot his exhaustion and began typing furiously.

 

"No, no, no…." he mumbled, then peered at the screen again.  He slammed a fist on the desk and swung away in disgust.  "Ruined.  I'll have to run that entire set again.  I must've dozed off while running the simulation," he cursed under his breath.  Turning towards the door he muttered, "Coffee.  I need to get a cup of…" he trailed off as his eyes widened.  There, standing in the lab entrance, was a scruffy boy who matched Sheppard's description to a tee.

 

McKay jumped up in alarm.  "Hey, you!  Kid! How'd you get in?  What are you doing here?"  He vaguely wondered if the child had been eating sweets as he rushed to grab him.  The boy just grinned like a demon and took off running up the stairs.

 

"Hey, no!  Come back here!"  Taking the steps two at a time, he followed the child to the main floor, flinging open the stairwell door only seconds after it had closed behind the scamp.

 

Nothing.  The kid had vanished, and the door to the upper levels was still shut.  McKay checked the front door, noting that it was both closed and locked, and that the code was active.  However, once a thorough search of that level proved fruitless, he punched in the digits and headed outside.

 

It was full dark, so the light from the complex streaming out from the open doorway pooled at his feet but did little to illuminate the surrounding area.

Squinting, he peered into the blackness; no boy was evident.  At a distance, however, two larger figures straggled slowly towards him.  The taller one, catching sight of the open door, raised his free arm to wave while keeping the other arm around the smaller man, practically carrying him.  Tiny wings of panic fluttered in Rodney's throat, _'What happened to Radek?'_

 

"Hey, Rodney, a little help here!" called Sheppard impatiently.  As the pair had slowly hiked back from the spot where he'd fallen, the Czech scientist's shaking had worsened, now as much from hypothermia as shock.  His eyes were glazed and his head whirled, causing him to lean more and more on the pilot as they progressed.  By the time they finally caught sight of the lighthouse, Sheppard was practically carrying his charge.  Also, the rocky terrain made it slow going; John managed to keep the two of them from falling altogether, but they did a fair share of stumbling in the darkness of the Deltarran night.  He sighed in relief as he saw the door to the building open of its own accord and McKay pop his head out.

 

At Sheppard's call McKay inexplicably popped back inside for a moment, only to appear seconds later wearing a jacket and carrying a flashlight.  "What happened?" he demanded, noting Radek's semi-conscious state.  "Where have you been?  Why…"

 

"Shut up and give me a hand," gritted John.  He himself was beyond tired, and the last thing he needed was the typical McKay question barrage.

 

"But…" Rodney began, only to be interrupted once more by an increasingly irate Sheppard.

 

" _NOW_ , McKay!"

 

Rodney's glare was lost in the shadows as he moved to snake an arm around Radek from the other side, only to recoil in surprise.  "He's _soaking wet_!  What you two do, go swimming?"

 

"Rodney…" the threat in the tone was unmistakable.

 

"Right.  Shutting up."  Rodney grimaced in distaste but managed to work his arm around Radek to help support him, then beamed the light on the ground in front of them.  They managed to make it the last couple of hundred yards and stagger in the door without further incident.

 

They pair gently eased Radek onto the couch in the main room and Sheppard began stripping the shivering scientist out of his damp clothes.  As he unzipped the jacket and began tugging it off his arms, Sheppard ordered, "Rodney, we need towels and blankets; there's a linen closet just down that hall, next to the bathroom."

 

McKay began to reply, _'What do I look like, your maid?',_ but one glance at Zelenka's slack, ashen features changed his mind.  Instead, he just snapped, "Right," and rushed out of the room, returning in under a minute with a stack of thick cotton towels and a huge down comforter.  "This enough?" he asked.

 

"It's a start."  Sheppard was having difficulty maneuvering Radek out of his shirt, as the man had gone almost completely limp.  Once it was pulled over his head, however, Sheppard grabbed the nearest towel and began vigorously rubbing down his head and torso in an effort to both dry him and restore circulation. 

 

McKay hovered anxiously but managed to contain the hundreds of questions that sprang to his lips, voicing only "What else do you want?"

 

Sheppard was pleasantly surprised by the pertinence of Rodney's remark.  "If you could get a pot of coffee going, it'll help warm him up."

 

"Coffee.  Right.  I can do that."  McKay disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

 

Once John had managed to dry the upper half of the hypothermic scientist, he wrapped him in the blanket and lay him lengthwise on the couch.  Next he struggled with the man's trousers, repeating the process.  By the time Radek was dry and swaddled in the comforter, Rodney had reappeared with a steaming cup of the requested beverage.

 

"Radek, we've got some hot coffee for you," Sheppard lightly patted his cheeks as he hauled him back into a sitting position.  "Come on, Zelenka, snap out of it.  Or am I going to have to pour this over your head instead?"

 

Zelenka shook his head.  "Waste…" he muttered, eyes blinking open.

 

"What?" asked John, eager to get the man back into the here and now.

 

Reaching for the cup with still-trembling fingers, he repeated, "One does not waste coffee, even in jest."  Taking a deep sip, he grimaced, "But then, is this truly coffee or mud?"  He stared accusingly at the mug as if it had accosted him in a dark alley.

 

"So I like my coffee strong," exclaimed McKay defensively.

 

Holding up his cup, Zelenka inquired, " _You_ made this?"

 

"Yes, I did," McKay drew himself up proudly.

 

Radek took another speculative taste, then looked slyly at the astrophysicist.  "For _McKay_ coffee, this is reasonably palatable."

 

"Now wait just one minute…" protested McKay.

 

Zelenka silenced him with a raised eyebrow.  "Come on, Rodney, why do you think that your department _always_ has a full pot of coffee ready for you in the morning?  Seriously, when was the last time you actually had to make it?"

 

"I thought they did it out of respect!"  McKay exclaimed.

 

"They did.  Respect for the coffee bean."  He took another swallow of the hot liquid, closing his eyes as its warmth seeped into him.  "Still, it grows on you."  He drained the cup, letting the lassitude of finally, _finally_ being safe steal over his senses. 

 

Sheppard snorted in amusement as Rodney fixed him with a glare.  Crossing his arms, McKay decided that it was time to go on the offensive.  "Well, Radek, if you're well enough to criticize my coffee, you're well enough to answer some questions.  First and foremost, what the heck happened to you?  I thought you were just going for a walk, and you come back drenched and half dead!"   

 

John interceded, noting that Zelenka was rapidly falling asleep.  "He fell off the cliff."  Sheppard was succinct, taking the mug from the drowsy man as he helped him lie down and tucked the blanket in closer.

 

"What?" hissed Rodney, visually assessing the bundled form for structural damage.  "How?"

 

Sheppard, satisfied that he'd made the Czech as comfortable as possible, pursed his lips and stood.  "I'm not sure, but I intend to find out.  It'll be better to question him after he's had a good night's sleep, then I'll go examine the spot on the cliff in the light of day."  He broke off and sniffed the air speculatively.  "Have you been baking, Rodney?  Smells sweet in here."

 

McKay, still staring at Radek in consternation, waved a dismissive hand.  "No, no.  That's just the cotton candy from my dream..."  His eyes widened at his own statement.

 

The pilot's brows furrowed in concern.  "McKay… _I_ can smell it.  How could I smell _your_ dream?"

 

Rodney shook his head to clear it, then looked at Sheppard in alarm.  "You can smell it?"

 

"Yes I can," John replied emphatically.  Sniffing experimentally, he followed the scent, Rodney trailing in his wake.  "It seems strongest over here," he commented, gesturing to the door that led to the basement lab.  Jerking it open, the sugary smell became much more pronounced.

 

John's eyes narrowed as a memory tickled the back of his mind.  "Reminds me of the month I spent in Rio…" he murmured to himself.

 

"Rio de Janeiro?"  Rodney fixed him with a jealous stare as they headed for the basement.

 

"Yeah," replied Sheppard distractedly as he pushed open the door to the lab itself.  The odor was much stronger here, and he began circling the room looking for its source.  "Brazil doesn't have any oil reserves to speak of, so most of their cars run on an ethanol from sugarcane/gasoline mix.  Lots cheaper for them and more efficient, but the whole place tends to smell like donuts or cotton candy during rush hour."

 

McKay's eyes widened in alarm as he suddenly put two and two together.  "The power for this building comes from an ethanol-based generator; Wicket said so during our 'tour'!"

 

"Widget," Sheppard corrected automatically.  "That must be it.  Where is it?"

 

McKay pointed to a door on the far side of the room.  "I think it's over there."

 

"Damn."  The door was stuck, firmly resisting Sheppard's attempts to jerk it open.  Placing a foot on the doorframe and both hands on the handle, he gave a sharp yank.  With a crash the door gave way, filling the room with a sickly-sweet scent.

 

Covering his nose with his sleeve, the pilot quickly located the 'off' switch and threw it, plunging the room into darkness.  McKay, recalling the flashlight he still held in his hand, flipped it on and wordlessly handed it to the other man, who shot him a smile and said, "Good thinking, Rodney."  Turning back to the machine, he began examining it in greater detail.

 

After a few minutes he crowed, "Got it!"  The exhaust hose leading out of the building had become loose, causing fumes to leak back into the lab.  Replacing it into proper position, he hit the startup button.  As the generator chugged back to life he glanced up at the restored lights and commented, "That ought to do it," as he brushed the dirt off his hands.  Pushing Rodney ahead of him, he continued, "Come on.  We need to go upstairs and let the air filters clean this place out for a while."

 

Rodney pointed at the machine and spluttered, "You mean…I was…I was breathing _carbon monoxide_?!?" 

 

"Yes, and you still are.  Move it, McKay!" Rodney needed no further urging; the two hurried to the first floor as the implications sunk in. 

 

Rodney sat down heavily on the nearest chair.  "That means I was inhaling carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide as well…"  Fixing Sheppard with an incredulous stare, he whispered, "I could have _died_.  No wonder I was so fatigued and sleepy…"  He glanced away, fixing his gaze on the front door instead.  "If it hadn't been for that kid…"

 

Sheppard jumped on the statement.  "KID?!?  What kid?" he demanded, grabbing McKay's arms and swinging him around to face him.

 

Rodney gestured vaguely towards the door.  "I guess with everything else I forgot to mention it.  I saw the boy you've been talking about - he was standing in the lab plain as day.  When I tried to talk to him, though…"

 

"Let me guess.  He ran away," interrupted John grimly.

 

McKay focussed on his face.  "Yes, yes he did.  I chased him upstairs into this room, but he was gone by the time I got here.  Since the front door hadn't been opened, I figured he must be hiding, but I couldn't find any sign of him.  I was actually just checking outside when I saw the two of you staggering home."

 

"So McKay had his turn already," commented a muffled voice from the couch.

 

Rodney looked confused, glancing from one man to the other.  "My turn?  What are you talking about?"

 

Clapping him on the shoulder, John smiled.  "Don't worry about it.  We should all go upstairs and get some sleep; that lab won't be safe to work in until tomorrow morning, and we have a busy day ahead of us."

 

9\. Safety Precautions

 

"Hey, Doctor Z, you gonna be OK?"  John and Rodney managed to negotiate Radek up two flights of stairs and into his bed; after the evening he'd had, Sheppard was immensely grateful for McKay's help with the somnambulating scientist.

 

"Be fine. Thank you," came the muffled reply from beneath three blankets.  It was quickly followed by the sound of soft snoring.

 

Easing the door closed, Sheppard turned to his other charge.  Once they had reached the third floor landing, Rodney had bent over double, gasping for breath as John finished putting the other scientist to bed.  Placing a supportive hand on the panting man's back, he inquired, "What about you, Rodney?"

 

McKay, red-faced, tried to speak between wheezes.  Rolling his right hand in illustration, he puffed, "Carbon…monox….monoxide…permanently…binds…"  Abandoning that sentence, he tried again, "Short…of…breath.  This…gonna…last….months!"  His breathing finally began to slow to normal as the pair made their way around the hall, during which time he began to mull over the consequences.  He glanced up at Sheppard in a panic as they paused outside his room.  "What if I'm anoxic?  I could get brain damage!  I may need a transfusion to increase my oxygen carrying capacity.  We need to contact Beckett!"

 

John studied him critically.  "Rodney, the damage was _done_ hours ago and you just helped haul Radek up two flights of stairs; as long as you don't get exposed again, you'll only improve from here on out."

 

"How do we know I won't?  Get re-exposed, I mean?"

 

Sheppard's eyes became dangerous, boding ill for person or persons unknown.  "Because I am going to find out what happened, and make sure there are no repeat performances."  He intentionally lightened his expression, clapping a hand on Rodney's shoulder.  "Besides, would you leave before you figure out if you can make Seinlein's project work?"

 

McKay paused, considering.  "Good points.  Beckett would yank me out of here…"

 

"And whoever did this will have gotten what they wanted."  Sheppard opened the door to McKay's room and ushered the scientist inside.

 

"Who would want to sabotage this project?"  Rodney was truly confused.  "If we can make it work, it'll effectively protect this planet from further cullings.  Why would someone here want to prevent that?"

 

"I can think of a few possibilities," replied Sheppard, folding down Rodney's blanket.  "First, there's the rival scientific camp, who might just be petty enough to want to see this fail no matter what."  Rodney sat on the edge of the bed and began to pull his boots off as Sheppard continued, "Second, it could be an enemy of Dr. Seinlein himself who doesn't want _any_ of the doctor's work to succeed.  The man didn't sound like the warm and cuddly type."  McKay was having trouble with his shirt, so John reached over to help pull it over his head, then stepped back again.  "Third, there could be Wraith sympathizers on this planet.  We have no idea how widespread _that_ problem is.  Finally, it could just be some nut with an insane prejudice against off-worlders."  He shrugged.  "I don't care so much as to _who_ they are as to _how_ they're getting in, and how to stop them."

 

He looked at the scientist.  "Can you finish getting to bed by yourself?"

 

McKay frowned indignantly, "Of course."   
  
John nodded.  "Good.  I have a few things to do before I turn in.  Sleep tight; I'll see you in the morning."  So saying he turned and let himself out of the room.

 

Having effectively tucked both scientists in for the night, Sheppard headed downstairs while trying to work the spasms out of his back.  The effort with Zelenka had worn him out, and he'd managed to breathe some of that carbon monoxide himself; not enough to impair his exercise stamina, but enough to give him a headache.  He wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep.  Nevertheless, there was no way he was going to bed with some unknown assailant potentially stalking their every move.  The incident with the masonry could have been an accident, the fall from the cliff a coincidence, but for the exhaust hose to the generator to come loose, flooding the lab with poisonous gas?  Sheppard wasn't buying it.  To top it off, that mysterious scamp kept showing up in the nick of time to inadvertently save their lives…Mama Sheppard didn't raise any fools.

 

 _'First things first.  Check the perimeter.'_  Thought into action, he snagged a jacket, a flashlight, and his 9-millimeter firearm.  A careful inspection of the outside of the building revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and all the windows were securely locked from the inside.  There were no signs of attempted entry on any of the sills, and the glass was unbroken.

 

Going back inside, he repeated the circuit on the first and second floors, confirming that everything was locked up tight. 

 

Putting a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing at a spasm, he stared around the room consideringly.  "OK, _how_ are they getting in?  Most likely a secret passage of some sort.  If I measure the inside and outside dimensions of this tower, I ought to be able to tell if one of the walls is thick enough to hide a tunnel or stairs."  Digging out a tape measure from their supplies, he carefully measured and recorded the inside dimensions of all the chambers on the first two floors, figuring that no hidden access would _begin_ on the third.  Once this was completed, he headed into the basement and repeated the process, planning to compare the dimensions to the chambers above.  There had been sufficient time for the filters to do their job, so he felt relatively safe working down there for a few minutes. 

 

Next he checked the generator room to make sure that the exhaust hose was still in its correct position.  Moving the radiator clamp back to the groove that it had dug in the rubber over the years, he examined the screw before tightening it down.  Grimly he noted the fresh, silver scratch marks that stood out from the rust-encased screw head of the too-loose clamp.  Pulling the rubber exhaust hose back just far enough to see the oxidized metal pipe beneath it, he observed fresh scratch marks there as well, made by prying the hose loose with a screwdriver.  Scowling, he replaced both the hose and the clamp, tightening it firmly with his Leatherman.  He turned to check the rest of the chamber.  There were no windows as this level was below ground, but the soldier carefully examined the walls, sequentially tapping on them to confirm that they were solid from the ground to his shoulder level.

 

Next, he climbed up to his room.  Digging through his rucksack as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the others, he retrieved a roll of tape, his sewing kit, and his digital camera and descended to the library.  Choosing the finest white thread he had in his kit and stretching to reach the corners, he tacked an almost-invisible 'X' across every window.  He held the thread in place with only a tiny amount of tape, so that it would easily come off if someone entered through that part of the building.  On the first floor he repeated the process, leaving only the main entrance unmarked, as they themselves used it to enter and exit.  Finally, in the basement he taped up his camera in a remote location, then rigged a tripwire to take a photo if the door to the generator was opened.  He'd tell Rodney and Radek about it in the morning, so they wouldn't get paranoid if they found it on their own.  The 'Nikon' on the side should clue them in to the fact that it belonged to him rather than to an intruder, but they were likely to be a little jumpy.

 

Glancing at his watch he noted that it was just 2 AM; he had time to catch a few hours sleep before dawn, at which point he planned on examining a few things in the daylight.  Plodding up the stairs, he realized just how exhausted he was.  Falling into bed, he hoped that his sleep would be undisturbed for a change.

 

Unfortunately, that hope was in vain.  Every time he closed his eyes he found himself back at the Arcturus Project with Rodney, only now billowing, poisonous green smoke kept pouring out of all the airvents, threatening to suffocate them before they could escape.  He would wake in a cold sweat, only to repeat the process a few minutes later.

 

As the pre-dawn light crept in his window, Sheppard gave it up as a lost cause.  Throwing off his blanket, he hurriedly showered and shaved in the small bathroom attached to his bedroom, and headed downstairs.  There was no sign of either Zelenka or McKay stirring, so he took the opportunity to measure the outside dimensions of the building and add them to the results he'd obtained the previous night.  Next, he knelt beside the stone that had almost flattened him.  It was quite weathered on all sides but one, clearly the side that had fractured from the wall above.  Careful examination, however, revealed disturbingly regular chisel marks in the rock on that side.  Clearly, someone had intentionally loosened the masonry from its mooring, causing it to fall at just about the time he'd been returning from the village.  He wasn’t sure how the timing could be set up, but those marks were man-made.

 

Squinting up at the tower, Sheppard could just make out a lighter patch below the fourth floor window.  "Well, let's take a look, shall we?" he asked himself.  Going back inside, he mounted the stairs as quietly as he could; Zelenka and Rodney had both had a harrowing day yesterday and deserved to sleep in.  Heck, _he_ deserved to sleep in; too bad his subconscious wouldn't allow that.

 

Reaching the deserted fourth floor, he eased the creaking door open and went to the window overlooking the path below.  He carefully examined the sill; visually it looked unremarkable, so he felt along the edge.  His questing fingers soon found the fresh chipping in the stone of the casement where a crowbar equivalent would have rested if prying on some object outside.  _'Or prying off'_, he thought to himself unhappily.  Next he evaluated the frame of the window.  "I was afraid of that," he commented as he noted the fractured wood where someone had splintered the lock…from the inside.  Finally he swung open the glass and peered at the wall directly below; there were chisel marks in the outer edifice identical to the ones on the stone.  "Well, that answers the timing question; whoever dislodged that rock was _up here_ when it fell."  Swinging around, he hurried back downstairs, heading to the cliff edge where Zelenka had slipped the night before.  On the way he began running possible hypotheses in his mind.

 

 _'All right, first point: someone definitely tried to kill me by dropping that slab just as I was returning from the village.  Therefore, someone bypassed the complex's security system and made it up to the fourth floor in order to do that.  Second point: the boy, fast as he is, still couldn't have beat me back and run upstairs in time to do it.  Also, there is no way he'd have the strength to lift that rock, much less loosen it from its attachment to the lighthouse wall.  Ergo, someone else did, and that someone else is probably an adult male - a strong adult male.  So is the kid working with him or against him?'_  He snorted at the mental question. _'Given that the only reason my head's not crushed like an eggshell is the fact that I was chasing him, I'll have to lean towards the latter.'_   He rubbed a hand over his bleary eyes as he moved his aching muscles towards the cliff.  _'Dang, I'm tired.  I feel worse than I did in Atlantis.  When we get back I'll get some sleeping pills from the infirmary if I have to steal them.'_

 

Lips thinning to a line, he proceeded to the spot where Zelenka had fallen the day before.  Not wanting to end up in the same predicament as the scientist, he knelt on the ground several yards away from the edge and inched his way out.  About a foot from the new cliff-edge the stone appeared intentionally dislodged, then covered over to make it appear stable.  Clumps of grass had even been positioned to disguise the torn-up ground.  Given that a goodly chunk of the loose stone must have tumbled into the sea when Zelenka fell, he suspected that the assassin had torn up a good yard of ground.  There was a second section a hundred feet further down his jogging path that had been similarly disturbed.  The weight of a man would easily send the rock and its occupant tumbling into the surf below.  Zelenka had merely been caught in the fallout from an attempt to kill _Sheppard_.  John worried that the red headed child might have fallen as well until he recalled that Rodney had seen the scamp _after_ Sheppard had found Radek.

 

Sheppard wasted no time returning to the lighthouse and his two charges.  Upon entering the building he was relieved to hear the murmur of a low conversation coming from the kitchen, as well as the aroma of fresh coffee.  Hanging up his jacket, he headed in to join the others.  To his surprise, _Zelenka_ sat sipping coffee at the table while _McKay_ stood at the stove with a spatula and a frying pan. 

 

"Wow, Rodney, I thought we'd given up on you doing any of the cooking this trip," commented John as he sauntered over to the stove.  "Whatcha making?"

 

McKay drew himself up proudly.  "If you must know, Doctor Zelenka has been instructing me in the fine art of scrambling eggs."  To demonstrate, he held up the pan where fluffy, nearly-done mounds of yellow nestled in rich butter.

 

"Yes, but it is time to remove from fire," commented Radek upon seeing the stage of preparation.  "They will finish firming on the plates."

 

Like a schoolboy, Rodney looked at his creation and said, "Oh.  OK," then proceeded to distribute the eggs evenly onto three plates where slabs of toast and jam already rested.

 

"Let me help you carry this," offered John, picking up two of the dishes.  Carefully transporting them to the table, he set one in front of Zelenka and the other at his own place before sitting down himself.  Rodney, turning off the fire, picked up his laden plate and joined them.

 

As John poured a cup of coffee, he took the opportunity to examine the other two men.  Rodney for the most part seemed to have recovered, but Radek was significantly worse for the wear.  Clearly the man had bathed, as numerous scrapes and bruises stood out in sharp relief against his pallid skin.  Despite the shower there was still blood under the ragged fingernails of his right hand from having gripped the cliff face so tightly, and his right wrist appeared swollen as if he had sprained it as Sheppard pulled him up.  While no longer frankly shaking in shock, his hand still trembled slightly as he reached for the sugar.

 

"You gonna be OK?" asked the colonel, concerned.

 

Radek stared at his food, embarrassed.  "I shall be fine once I get back to work.  I apologize for my weakness."

 

Rodney piped up.  "That's why I thought I should make breakfast this morning; a kitchen fire would be a bad way to start the day.  Besides, I always wanted to know how to cook eggs."

 

Sheppard didn't understand it, but for some reason the Czech was _embarrassed_ that he hadn't completely recovered from his harrowing experience overnight.  Sending McKay a surreptitious nod, he took a bite and commented, "And fabulous eggs they are, Rodney.  I couldn't have done better myself."

 

Rodney took a bite of his own, then looked up at Sheppard in surprise.  "These really _are_ good," he exclaimed, then lit into them like there was no tomorrow.

 

Radek picked slowly at his food, but managed to clean his plate before he spoke again.  "So, Colonel, what have you discovered?"

 

John didn't sugar-coat things.  Staring the other two straight in the eye, he spoke slowly and seriously.  "None of the things that happened to us yesterday were accidents.  When I secured the exhaust tube last night I found definite signs that it had been intentionally pried loose.  The rock that almost flattened me has chisel marks from where it was dislodged from the tower wall, and the ground where Zelenka fell has been deliberately dug up and smoothed over."

 

The room was silent for a minute, then Radek quietly asked, "So…what do we do?"

 

"Well, for one thing, I'm heading down to talk to the constable.  He needs to know what's going on, and he might have some idea about who the kid is so I can question him."

 

"You don't think that the child…" began Radek, aghast.

 

"No, I don't," replied Sheppard before the engineer could even finish his sentence.  "But he _does_ know how to get in and out of this facility without triggering the alarms, and I'll bet our assailant is using the same method.  While I'm gone I'd like you two to stay inside and together as much as possible; keep an eye on each other's back." 

 

Sheppard then went on to describe what he'd done the night before to try and pinpoint the entry site.  "When I get back I'll compare the measurements I took from the inside and the outside of the structure to see if there are any glaring discrepancies."

 

"What about contacting Atlantis and having them send reinforcements?" asked Rodney anxiously.

 

"The problem is, to do that we have to go through the Deltarran Science Ministry to relay a message.  I'm not sure I trust them, and I don't want to tip off the criminal."

 

"Do you want me to run those measurements while you're gone?"  McKay offered half-heartedly.

 

"Nah, I have too much free time as it is.  Your genius is better spent working on that prototype in the basement."  So saying, he pushed back his chair and stood.  "I'd better get going."

 

"Hey, don't forget; it's your turn to do the dishes when you get back!" Rodney called to the retreating figure.

 

10\. A Mystery

 

"I have to admit, I'm quite concerned."  Constable Cleary's ice-blue eyes clouded as LTC Sheppard had described the events of the preceding day.  "You won't mind if I come and check out Bellwick myself?"

 

"Please do.  After all, this is your realm of expertise.  Just don't be surprised if my men are a little…jumpy." 

 

Cleary shook his head in commiseration.  "I'd say they have good reason to be.  Are you sure you don't want Doc Watson to check them out?"

 

"Nah, I'll have Dr. Beckett examine them when we get back."

 

"Then, would you like me to notify the Ministry or your people?  You could go home and come back once we've determined that the place is safe."

 

Sheppard considered the suggestion; Radek was pretty rattled, and McKay's carbon monoxide poisoning was not going away any time soon.  Still, now that they were aware of the danger, they would take appropriate precautions.  Also, given their excitement over Seinlein's work, Sheppard doubted that he could get the scientists to leave short of a direct order from Weir, and even then he might face a mutiny.  Finally, there was something about Widget that he simply didn't trust…So the Ministry was out.

 

"No, that's all right.  Let's see what we can come up with on our own.  For starters, do you have any idea who the kid might be?"

 

Cleary snorted and poured himself a cup of tea.  "See, that's a part of the puzzle that just doesn't fit.  Lorton is a pretty small town by _anyone's_ standards; I make it a point to know all the comings and goings in these parts."  He turned and fixed Sheppard with his steely blue stare.  "There _are no redheaded boys_ in this town!  The youngest redhead we have is Delilah Johnson, and she's twenty-three.  The Johnsons have lived around here for over six generations, descended from the sister of a lighthouse keeper that was culled by the Wraith, but they don't have any little boys."

 

John pursued the possibility.  "Maybe there's a visiting cousin?  Someone you haven't met?"

 

Cleary sat behind his desk again and shrugged.  "Always a possibility, I s'pose. I'll ask around, see if anyone knows anything."

 

Sheppard stood to go.  "I'd appreciate that, sir."

 

Cleary stood as well.  As they shook hands, he stated, "I'll be up later today with one of my men to take a look around.  If someone is trying to sabotage the project, the more eyes the better."

 

Sheppard hurried out the door, only to stand blinking at the sunlight as his eyes adjusted from the dim room.  He was suddenly aware of a feeling of being watched; narrowing his eyes, he focussed on the sensation, then whirled to his right.  The curtains in an upper window swung wildly as a distinctly masculine face disappeared.  Sheppard remembered someone watching him from that venue on the day they arrived, but it now took on more serious connotations.  Still, there was nothing illegal about looking out a window, so Sheppard didn't pursue it.  Instead he began hiking back to the lighthouse at a clipped pace, feeling some urgency to return to protect his charges.

 

On the edge of town he saw the boys playing and waved to them in a friendly fashion.  Calling out, he asked, "Could I ask you guys a question?"

 

The preteens gathered around as their leader answered, "Sure, sir."

 

"Do you remember the other day when I first came to town?"  Sheppard smiled winningly.

 

"Sure.  Of course we do; most grown-ups won't give us the time of day.  Besides, you're a stranger."

 

Sheppard stuck his hands in his pockets to appear as non-threatening as possible.  "Well, after I talked to the Constable I walked by you again, and there was this red-head kid standing to the side waiting to play - does anybody know who he is?"

 

The blonde boy looked confused, then turned to inspect the faces of the other children.  "Anybody know what he's talking about?"  Multiple negative head shakes and shoulder shrugs. 

 

He turned back to the waiting pilot.  "Mister, there weren't no redhead at the game the other day; fact is, we don't even _know_ any redheads!"  The other children nodded vigorously in agreement.

 

Sheppard knew better than to challenge them; if the kids were hiding the boy's identity, wild horses weren't going to make them talk.  Plastering a disarming smile on his face, he tilted his head to the side and said consideringly, "Hmph.  I must have been mistaken.  Sorry to have bothered you."

 

"No problem!" the boy grinned, then tossed the ball to the chubby brown-haired boy.  "Think fast, Larry!"  The game resumed in a flurry of arms and legs as the puzzled pilot left them in his wake.

 

Sheppard tried to work it out while he hiked back to the lighthouse.  If Cleary were hiding someone, he could understand it.  But why would the children deny the existence of their playmate?  What could _they_ possibly have to hide?  It just made no sense.

 

Upon reaching Bellwick he was gratified to note that the door was firmly locked and the code in place.  Quickly entering, he called out, "Hey guys, I'm back!"  Not getting an answer, he quelled a small flare of alarm as he opened the door that led downstairs to the lab.

 

This time Zelenka sat with folded arms in front of the terminal where they'd been running the simulations.  His eyes were narrowed as he examined the screen before them, then he nodded.  Pointing at a particular spot on the diagram displayed, he murmured, "Yes, yes, you are correct.  If we increase the capacitance at this point, the device becomes inherently more stable."

 

"I'm glad you agree," replied Rodney blandly.  John was pleased to note the absence of sarcasm in the comment; perhaps McKay was learning how to listen?

 

"Hi, guys," he said, sidling up.

 

The two turned as one to face him.  "So, how'd it go with the Constable?" asked McKay curiously.

 

"He's going to be up with one of his men later to look around.  He's worried about what's happened as well."  Sheppard was matter-of-fact.

 

"What about the boy?" queried Zelenka.  "What does he know about him?"

 

Sheppard scratched his head and closed his left eye.  "Funny thing about that; he claims there aren't any red-headed boys in town."

 

McKay's eyes flew open as he held up an index finger to object, "Now wait just one minute…"

 

Sheppard grimaced, hearing the challenge in Rodney's voice.  "Yes, McKay.  Remember, I saw him first?  Twice!"  Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned.  "Cleary doesn't strike me as the lying type; I'm convinced that he really doesn't know anything about the kid."  He left out the part about the other children denying the existence of their playmate.  That's just getting too weird.

 

A strident ringing interrupted further conversation, causing all three men to jump.  Realization dawned on Sheppard first.  "That must be Constable Cleary.  I'll show him around, then he'll probably want to talk to both of you."  Leaning in, he added in a stage whisper, "Make nice."

 

Rodney grimaced, but didn't deign to reply as Sheppard headed upstairs.

 

Cleary was indeed on the front porch, with a second, younger man standing nervously behind him.  The third individual he recognized with surprise as Doctor Widget from the Science Ministry.

 

"Constable Cleary!  That was quick."  Sheppard shook the older man's hand firmly, then turned to the scientist.  "And Doctor Widget; this is quite a surprise.  What brings you here?"  The last was not so much a question as a challenge.

 

Widget assumed his previous bluster as he held up a thick sheaf of paper.  "The Deltarran Science Council thought that Doctor McKay might want to examine Seinlein's original written notes; when I landed in Lorton, I checked in with the Constable who apprised me of the situation."  He proceeded to shoulder his way into the main room just as Zelenka and McKay emerged from the basement lab.

 

"Oh, uh, Doctor Picket, I didn't know you were coming," blurted McKay as he saw the other man.

 

Lips thinning, the Deltarran growled, "That's Widget."

 

Rodney shrugged, waving one hand in the air, "Whatever.  What are you doing here?  Our report isn't due for over a week."  He crossed his arms as he waited impatiently for an answer.

 

Widget drew himself up haughtily and thrust the pile of papers at Rodney.  "Here.  Seinlein's early notes.  The Council thought they might be helpful.  Of course, since the entire premise is flawed…"

 

McKay snatched the folder and snapped, "Hardly.  The premise is brilliant; it just needed some refinement."

 

Now it was Widget's turn to cross his arms.  "And I suppose you are the one to 'refine' his theorems."

 

"As a matter of fact, I _am_."  Turning his back on the Deltarran, he said with finality, "Thank you for dropping by, Dr. Wickett.  See you in a week," and disappeared into the basement.  Radek, who had watched the entire conversation with barely concealed mirth, shrugged apologetically and followed.

 

In frustration, Widget swung around to face Sheppard and the others.  Sheppard stood silently, head tilted and eyebrow raised in challenge, the other two men right behind him.  With a gulp the Deltarran remembered his rudely shoving Sheppard aside only moments before.  Trying to salvage what he could of the situation, he gathered his dignity like a tattered cloak and huffed wordlessly out the door, headed for the village.

 

Sheppard watched until the officious man was out of earshot, then started laughing.  "Well, that was short, if not sweet," he commented.

 

Cleary broke into frank guffaws, and soon he was doubled over trying to catch his breath.  After a few minutes, he managed to choke out, "In all the time I've had the displeasure of knowing that man, I have _never_ seen his ego handed to him on a plate before.  Normally he takes such joy out of looking down his nose at us 'poor country folk'; Doctor McKay really took the wind out of his sails."

 

Wiping his eyes, Sheppard agreed, "Well, McKay certainly is good at _that._ "  Looking past the chuckling Constable, he addressed the confused, brown-eyed man.  "And your name is?" he inquired.

 

Pulling the nervous dark-haired youth forward, Cleary introduced him.  "This is Sgt. Sparso, one of my assistants.  I believe I mentioned him when you first visited my office.  He'll be helping with the investigation."

 

Offering a shy smile, Sgt. Sparso added, "Pleased to meet you.  I hope you'll be able to finish Dr. Seinlein's work; he was very devoted to it."

 

Sheppard replied, "Well, we're not here to _finish_ it so much as to help see if Dr. Seinlein's theories have any real validity.  Then the Deltarran Science Council can take over."  Turning back to Cleary, he asked, "Didn't you have another man?  A Sgt. Aule, as I recall?"

 

The Constable nodded.  "Yes, but he's unavoidably detained - family emergency, you understand."  Looking at the fresh-faced assistant, he continued, "Besides, Sparso and I can handle the situation for the time being, can't we?"

 

Sparso snapped to attention.  "Yes, _sir_!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.

 

"There's my boy," Clearly smiled proudly at his eagerness, then became businesslike as he turned to the colonel.  "Now, if you wouldn't mind showing me the locations where these incidents occurred…"

 

"Be glad to."  Sheppard wanted this mystery solved.  "In the meantime, I'd sure feel better if Sparso could stay here and guard my men."

 

Cleary nodded.  "That was the general idea."  So saying, he nodded to the other man who saluted and assumed a position just inside the front door.

 

 

11.  To Err is Human

As the two men hiked back from the cliff edge after inspecting the sites Sheppard identified, Cleary shook his head in concern.  "Look, this is a real problem; that was clearly attempted murder.  The exhaust hose in the basement was also intentionally pried off, as was the stone that nearly crushed you."

 

"Tell me something I don't know," muttered John bitterly.  Going over the information with the Constable only to reach the identical conclusions was frustrating to say the least.  Throw in a headache, strained back muscles, and sleep deprivation, and even Sheppard had to admit that he was hardly in peak form.

 

Cleary empathized.  "Look, you're beat, and you're going to make mistakes trying to manage this on your own, maybe deadly mistakes.  Whether you like it or not, I'm going to call the Ministry and have them contact your people."  He held up a hand to silence John's objection.  "I'm not saying you have to leave.  At the very least I would expect them to send some extra security personnel."

 

Sheppard paused.  Cleary was right.  He was exhausted and could easily miss something.  Rubbing a hand across his eyes as they walked, he nodded.  "Yeah.  Good idea."  He paused before concluding, "I just can't figure out how they're getting in."

 

Cleary chuckled.  "As you said before, that's my area of expertise."  His eyebrows drew together, and he continued, "Until your people get here, I'd like to keep an eye on things.  Either I or one of my men will be checking on you."

 

Sheppard nodded, too tired to argue.  "Sure.  What's Sgt. Aule look like?"

Cleary smiled, "About fifty, a taciturn old coot, about as tall as me but much thinner, and a face made of tanned leather."

 

Sheppard crooked a grin.  "Sounds like he and McKay will just love each other."

 

"Yeah.  When he gets done with his family business, I'll be sure to send him by."  Cleary grinned back.  By this time they had reached the front door of the lighthouse and went in.

 

Sgt. Sparso snapped to attention as the two men entered, jumping up hurriedly from his chair.  "Constable Cleary, sir!  I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

 

Cleary made calming motions with his hands.  "At ease, Sparso.  Anything happen while we were out?"

 

Sparso, still keeping his back straight, let his shoulders slide forward slightly.  "No, sir.  The scientists have been in the basement all day, and there's been no attempted entry in that time."  The youngster was nervous around his superior and anxious to make a good impression.  Sheppard figured this was the most responsibility he'd had since he'd found Dr. Seinlein's body.

 

Cleary recognized this as well.  Clapping a hand to his shoulder, he said, "Good work, son.  Now let's get out of here and leave these people to their work."  As the two turned to exit, he called back over his shoulder, "I'll phone the Ministry first thing in the morning; they're closed now except for a few emergency personnel."  The door clicked shut behind them, and Sheppard carefully keyed the lock.

 

Rolling stiff shoulders to ease the knot of tension that had settled there, John flopped onto the couch in the front room, too tired to move any further.  _'I'll just rest a minute before I tackle Rodney...'_   He leaned his head back, his eyes had shut of their own volition, and he was sound asleep.

 

An hour or so later, growling stomachs drew the scientists from their work.  As the door to the basement opened, McKay called out, "Colonel Sheppard?  Are you back yet?"

 

Zelenka caught sight of the snoring figure on the couch.  Head lolled back, arms akimbo, Sheppard was the picture of exhaustion.  Pointing at the sleeping man, he hissed, "Quiet, Rodney, you'll wake him."  As McKay opened his mouth to comment, Radek whirled and pointed a finger right at his colleague's nose.  "Not…one…word.  He saved my _life_ yesterday."

 

Rodney's jaw closed with an audible _snap_.  Radek nodded in satisfaction, then continued quietly, "We can forage dinner for ourselves, I think.  After all, you are the one who _likes_ MREs; _anything_ we cook should be better than that."  Wordlessly, the pair headed into the kitchen and eased the door shut.

 

A gentle shaking of his left shoulder two hours later brought John back to consciousness from a blissfully dreamless sleep.  "Colonel Sheppard, wake up.  It is time for dinner."  He blinked his eyes open and stared blearily at Zelenka, who smiled in return.

 

Suddenly alert, Sheppard's eyes flew to the code box by the door; to his relief it was still set.  "Sorry about that; I must've dozed off."  Standing, he headed for the kitchen where a decent-looking pot of beef stew sat simmering on the stove.  Taking an appreciative whiff, he exclaimed, "Wow, this smells great!"  Ladling out a large bowl he continued, "Sorry about not making dinner tonight; I guess I was more tired than I thought."  Taking a spoonful, he critiqued, "You really outdid yourself, Radek."

 

Zelenka shook his head in denial.  "No, no.  Dr. McKay cooked." 

 

Sheppard held the bowl at arm's length and examined it critically.

 

Noting Sheppard's stance, Radek smiled sheepishly and admitted, "With a little supervision, of course…After his success with the eggs this morning, he wanted to try something more…ambitious."

 

"Of course he did."  Sheppard unsuccessfully hid a grin as he dug into the tasty meal, then a thought occurred to him.  "How are _you_ doing, Doctor Z?  You were still pretty shaken at breakfast."

 

Radek shrugged.  "I recover quickly. Where I trained, I had to; if I showed weakness like this morning, I would have been cleaning out my desk by noon."

 

"You did fall off a _cliff_ yesterday _!_ " John commented sarcastically.

 

Zelenka gave a depreciating smile.  "Ahhh, but that was _yesterday_.  This is _today._ "

 

"Well, I don't know how things were back in your country, but around here we allow ourselves to admit the occasional weakness, the occasional mistake.  It's part of being human.  After all, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

 

Radek's eyes narrowed calculatingly.  "Like Arcturus?"

 

John nearly choked on a chunk of potato, then used the resultant coughing fit to avoid answering the question.  As Radek rushed to get him a glass of water, he had to admit to himself, _'Yeah, I guess Rodney just made the mistake of being human.  He certainly has been trying to learn from it.  He really has been listening to Zelenka and running the simulations as he suggested.'_ As the coughing subsided, he glanced around the room, noticing the other man's absence.  "Hey, where is the good Dr. McKay anyway?"

 

Zelenka shrugged.  "Rodney and I ate earlier; we let you sleep.  He said he 'needed a soak' and went to take a bath."

 

That sounded like an incredibly good idea to Sheppard's aching muscles.  When they had originally explored the lighthouse they had found four small bathrooms with showers off of the living quarters on the third floor, as well as one huge bathroom with a whirlpool tub for relaxing on the main floor.  The linen closet just opposite it was filled with thick, absorbent towels and terrycloth robes worthy of a 4-star hotel, indicating that Dr. Seinlein wasn't above appreciating some of the finer pleasures of life.  "You going in next?" he asked Radek, expecting an affirmative answer.

 

"No, I wasn't planning on it."

 

John flashed a tired smile as he said, "Then I call 'dibs'," and went to the stove to get a second helping of the stew.

 

\--------------------

 

After he finished dinner, Rodney had piled his dishes in the sink with the comment, "I cooked _again_ ; tell Sheppard it's still his turn to wash up!"

 

Radek smiled.  "I will be certain to convey your sentiment to the Colonel when he awakes.  Where will you be?"

 

Jerking his thumb down the hall to the bathroom, he replied, "I thought I'd take a nice, relaxing bath.  I'm still suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, you know."

 

Schooling his face to innocence, Radek commented, "I was unaware of the curative properties of hot water on that condition, Rodney.  You should submit a study on it.  Perhaps you could get a grant."

 

"Har-de-har-har.  Very funny," McKay grimaced, then flounced down the hall, snagging a couple of extra-thick towels and a robe from the linen closet on the way.

 

Running a tub of steaming water, Rodney slowly peeled out of his grimy clothes with a sigh and dropped them unceremoniously to the floor, slightly surprised when they didn't stand on their own. _'I really should wash them before they develop language skills…'_  Kicking the pile to the corner of the room, he set the towels on the table beside the oversized tub and hung the robe on the hook provided.  Next he scrounged the bar of soap from the sink and tossed it into the water.  He carefully tested the temperature with his toe and, finding it satisfactory, slowly eased into the whirlpool.  Reaching for the control behind him, he turned on the massage jets and settled back with a deep, heartfelt sigh.  " _Every_ scientific lab really should have one of these," he purred to himself.  Glancing around the oversized tiled room, he decided that the only thing he would change would be the clock that projected from the wall just to the side of the safety rail.  _'No one should be reminded of the time while they are relaxing,'_ he thought disapprovingly.  _'Still, that's the only thing I'd change about this room.'  _He leaned his head onto the preformed headrest and closed his eyes.  Outside he could hear the drone of voices as Radek apparently roused the colonel.

 

The passage of time is a relative thing when one is so relaxed.  Rodney eventually became aware of an uncomfortable niggling at the back of his mind.  It felt…as if someone were watching him.  Eyes popping open, he glanced frantically about the room.

 

There, in the now-open doorway, stood the redheaded boy.  Jumping up, McKay hastily grabbed a towel from the table and wrapped it around his waist.  "Hey, you!" he shouted.  "What are you doing here?  How did you get in?"

 

The boy's eyes widened at the verbal barrage; he whirled on a dime and ran from the room.  Rodney, determined to get some answers this time, seized the safety rail as he rushed to follow him.  In his hurry he pulled too hard and jerked the top from its attachment to the wall.  His forward momentum catapulted him forward even as the rail was yanked backwards into the protruding clock.  As he fell he caught his toe on the lip of the Jacuzzi, causing him to pitch forward.  With a horrified yell he hurtled towards the floor, unable to slow his descent despite desperately-flailing arms.  Cracking his forehead on the sink, he saw stars and heard a loud, sizzling, electric _pop_.  He hit the tile with an ungraceful thud as the lights went out.

 

12. Good Night, Sweet Prince

 

Sheppard was sitting at the kitchen table working on his second bowl of stew.  His head swiveled towards the door when he heard Rodney yelling.  He jumped up, toppling his chair and slamming his head into a frying pan dangling from the potrack 'conveniently' placed over the table. _Splaaanngggggg….!_

 

 _'Owww…!  And I knew that was there!'_ he cursed at himself, the ringing in his ears mirroring that of the pan.  Rubbing his head, he aimed for the commotion outside, Zelenka hot on his heels.  "McKay?!?" he hollered.  "You all right?  What's going on?"  He had just reached the kitchen door when he heard Rodney's inarticulate scream, the dull thud of a body striking the ground, and the lights snapped off. 

 

"What the hell?" he muttered as he came to a complete halt in the darkened hallway.  Zelenka, unable to see, plowed into his back causing them both to stagger forward.

 

"What has happened to the power?" asked Radek apprehensively.

 

"More importantly, what's happened to McKay?" snapped Sheppard, feeling blindly for the wall.  Raising his voice he called out, "Rodney?  You OK in there?"  When no answer was forthcoming, he cursed and tried to increase his pace down the hallway.

 

"A moment!" called Zelenka, fumbling through his pockets.  "Aha!"  With a triumphant cry, he switched on the small flashlight he had secreted on his person after his misadventure the night before.

 

"Great!"  Snatching the light from the scientist, John took off down the hall at a jog until he came to the open bathroom door.  Shining the beam around the room, he quickly located McKay sitting on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, holding his head in his hands.  Kneeling next to the groaning man, he asked, "Rodney?  Are you OK?" just as Radek appeared behind him in the doorway.

 

Lifting his head slightly, Rodney cracked open one eye and squinted blearily at the pilot.  "Did you catch him?" he asked in an apparent non sequitur. 

 

"Catch who?" asked Zelenka, peering anxiously up and down the dark hallway.

 

Taking both hands away from his face, Rodney glared, "That kid, of course!  He was standing right there staring at me in the tub!"  Suddenly recalling his current state of undress, he hurriedly gathered the towel back around his waist.  Wincing at the movement, he dropped his face to his hands again and moaned, "Oh, my aching head…." Striking the sink edge then the floor had done nothing to improve his carbon monoxide headache.

 

John worriedly commented,  "Rodney, we didn't see anyone before the lights went out.  What happened to the electricity, anyway?"  Concentrating, he could just make out the distant hum of the still-functioning generator, so that wasn't the problem.

 

"I heard a…pop.  I think it came from the tub."  McKay glanced over where he'd just been sitting moments before.

 

Sheppard obligingly shined the flashlight in the water, only to quickly suck in his breath at the sight.  The clock which had originally been inset into the wall now lay at the bottom of the tub, trailing its still-attached electrical wires.  "That thing shorting out must've thrown a breaker."  Taking no chances, he snagged the toilet brush and lifted the electrical device out of the water with the handle.  Depositing it on the floor, he confirmed that it wasn't running before he reached up and ripped the cord from where it was wired into the wall.

 

"You two stay here; I'll go check the fusebox and see if I can get the lights back on.”  Sheppard took the flashlight and headed down the hall at a jog, leaving the other two men in the darkened bathroom.  Moments later the power flickered back on, illuminating McKay in all his near-naked glory.  Radek's eyes were immediately drawn to the goose egg forming on the other man's forehead, as well as the dark bruise extending towards his eye.

 

Reaching out to gingerly touch it, he hissed, "Rodney, what _happened_?"

 

Batting away the exploring fingers, McKay snapped, "I slipped and hit my head on the sink when I tried to catch that brat!"

 

"Well, 'that brat' just saved your life… _again_ ," remarked Sheppard as he returned from his mission.  Kneeling next to the clock, he continued, "Think about it, Rodney; if you hadn't been chasing him, where would you have been when this clock fell into the water?"

 

Glancing back at the tub, the color blanched out of McKay's face as he visibly gulped.  Shakily he pushed still-wet hair out of dilated eyes and whispered, "Oh my God…I should be _dead_!"

 

"But how did it happen in the first place?" asked Zelenka, crouching next to Sheppard.  "I mean, that clock was set into the wall; it shouldn't have had enough wiring to allow it to _reach_ the water, even if it did fall."

 

Sheppard's mouth set in a grim line.  "Someone's changed the original wiring.  See here?  This whole length was coiled behind the clock, hidden in the wall."  He rewound the wire to demonstrate, then pointed to the connections of the wire to the clock itself.  "And those pigtails are newly made; the wire hasn't had a chance to corrode yet despite the moisture in the room."

 

Standing up to examine the indentation where the clock had resided in the wall, Radek commented, "I don't see how the clock could have set flush with all that extra wire coiled up behind it."

 

"It didn't.  Sit flush, I mean."  Rodney shakily added his commentary to the conversation.  "I noticed earlier how it stuck out from the wall, but didn't think anything about it at the time."

 

"The clock was slightly inset into the wall when we first arrived," asserted Zelenka.  "I remember admiring the craftsmanship."

 

"Well, that would make it easier to fall out now, wouldn't it?  Especially once this thing hit it."  Sheppard began to examine the rail that had knocked the clock free, and the wall that it had pulled out from.  After a few moments he pulled one of the anchor screws out of the metal and placed it experimentally in the matching hole in the masonry.  His mouth set to a grim line.  "I thought so; look at this."

 

Radek got up from where he had been kneeling next to McKay and peered nearsightedly at the wall.  "What am I looking at?" he asked curiously.

 

Sheppard slipped the screw in and out of the too-large hole; the threads didn't even catch.  "These screws are too small for the holes in the masonry; looks to me like someone took out the original ones and replaced them with some several sizes too small.  The first time someone used the rail to get out of the tub, this would pull right out of the wall."  He then pointed to the base of the rail where it was still attached, albeit loosely.  "There's only one screw holding it in place; they didn't mean for the rail to come completely off - they meant for it to come loose _and knock off that clock_."

 

Zelenka stared at him with deer-in-headlights eyes.  "So this was another attempted murder," he whispered.  "Should we contact the Constable again?"

 

"No…" considered Sheppard.  "He's going to have the Ministry call Atlantis tomorrow to send some security personnel.  I'd just as soon wait until our people get here."  The LTC was beginning to have reservations about the straightforward lawman, but he kept them to himself.  No point in worrying the others, but Cleary had been in the bathroom alone for quite some time that day, ostensibly to use the facilities, but he had plenty of time to do a quick sabotage if he had the right tools hidden on his person.  His own thoughts of relaxing for a few minutes vanished as he continued to map out a plan of action.

 

"I'm going to check for signs of entry," he said, knowing he wouldn't find any…again.  He looked at the still-sitting scientist with concern.  "McKay, are you going to be all right?"

 

Rodney opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Radek.  "He will be fine.  I will take care of him."

 

Sheppard stared uncertainly for a moment, then gave a sharp nod and vanished from the room.

 

Slipping an arm beneath McKay's shoulders, Radek said, "Come on, Rodney, let's get some ice on that lump."  McKay clambered unsteadily to his feet, then plastered a hand against the wall as he waited for the room to stop spinning.  Wordlessly the Czech snagged the robe off its hook and draped it over Rodney's shoulders.

 

"How about I put you on the couch, obtain a bag of ice, and make us some hot chocolate?  I know I could use some right now…"

 

Rodney gulped against a vague nausea, then nodded his agreement.  With Radek steadying him, the pair wove their way into the main room, where he rapidly found himself supine on the sofa with his feet up and a blanket firmly tucked about his legs.  Leaning into the softness of the pillows, he tried to relax but found that he was a huge bundle of raw nerves. 

 

"Oh, my aching head," he moaned, making sure he was loud enough for Radek to hear him in the kitchen.  "A concussion is certainly _not_ the way to treat a headache from carbon monoxide poisoning!"  He continued to complain audibly as clattering noises emanated from the kitchen where Zelenka went about his work.  A few minutes later, though it seemed like millennia, Zelenka reappeared with an icepack and a steaming cup of chocolate.

 

Placing the ice on the throbbing lump on Rodney's forehead, Radek waited for him to sit up before handing him the hot cocoa.  Rodney slowly righted himself with a heartfelt groan, then closed his eyes to ease the headache as he inhaled the soothing aroma.  Taking a long sip of the warm liquid, he managed a nervous smile.  "Maybe we should go back to Atlantis for a while, just until they catch the maniac responsible for all this."

 

"We do that, and we probably never _will_ ,” Sheppard remarked, entering the room.  Grabbing his jacket, he began to shrug it on as he continued, "The culprit will have no reason to show himself if no one is working on this project.  Besides, I thought you two wanted to have a functioning prototype before handing the research back to the Deltarrans."

 

"I hate to admit it, but the Colonel is probably right," Zelenka reluctantly added.  "We have done enough work to demonstrate that Seinlein's theories were correct; there's no reason for the Science Ministry to invite us back if we leave now.  We will never get to see it in action."

 

McKay grimaced; he hated to leave anything undone, and truly wanted to _see_ the prototype's performance.  Was he going to let his fear overcome his ego?  After battling with himself for a few moments, he muttered, "Fine.  We'll stay.  But you better be looking out for us!"  This last was added with a directed stare at Sheppard, who was keying the door prior to going out.

 

The colonel flashed a cocky grin and replied, "Why Rodney, you know I'm _always_ looking out for you."  More seriously he continued, "All my monitors are still in place at the windows; I'm going to do a quick sweep of the perimeter outside.  Shout if you need me."  So saying, he exited the building.

 

McKay was on his second cup of chocolate and was just beginning to unwind when the pilot reappeared at the door, drenched.  "Everything looks secure out there," he stated, shaking himself like a wet dog.  Ruffling a hand through his hair, he added, "Did you guys know that it's raining?"

 

Concentrating, McKay could just make out the gentle patter of raindrops hitting the outer windows.  The sound was somewhat soothing as long as one didn't have to be out in it.  Of course, he'd be more relaxed if he didn't have to worry about some lunatic murderer killing him as he went about his daily activities.  Deciding that he'd get no more work done tonight, Rodney stood shakily and remarked, "I've had it for one day; I'm off to bed."  ' _At least no one has tried to kill us in our sleep…yet.'_

 

Sheppard sighed tiredly.  "Sounds like a plan," he replied, and they all three trudged upstairs.  As they reached the third floor, he instructed, "Just to be on the safe side, I want everyone to leave their doors open tonight.  If anything, and I mean _anything_ , seems wrong, I want you to yell loud and long."

 

"Not a problem," Zelenka and McKay chorused, heading to their respective rooms.  Sheppard smirked, then went to his own.

 

Unconvinced that their troubles were over for the evening, John lay on his bed fully clothed, with the lights on.  If anything else happened, he didn't want to waste time pulling on his boots.  The raindrops on the eaves lulled him into a restless slumber.

 

His nightmare began, as always, at the Arcturus Project.  This time, however, as the reaction began to cascade out of control, he swung on Rodney…only to see him lying in a puddle of gore at his feet.  The body lay at an awkward angle, neck snapped, eyes glassy.  A superfluous knife stuck out of the scientist's back, and his blood was literally _everywhere_ ; swathed across the computer screen, dripping from the rafters…Sheppard jerked awake as a drop hit him right between the eyes.

 

Blinking, he found himself shakily staring up at the single light fixture suspended above the bed.  Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to still the racing of his heart by concentrating on the dangling lamp.

 

 _'Wow.  They made the glass bowl look like it actually ripples, like water…'_   Squinting, he scrutinized the dangling lamp more closely.  _'Wait a minute - those are ripples; is rain collecting in there?'_

 

For a moment he thought that the roof was somehow leaking and running down the fixture, but then remembered that there were two full floors between his room and the roof.  Then he caught a whiff of ethanol.  Eyes widening in shock, he realized, _Damn!  That's fuel from the line leading up to the signal lamp leaking into the…!'_

 

Just as Sheppard rolled off the mattress, the ethanol level reached the bulb inside the fixture.  The bulb exploded, igniting the ethanol with an intense ' _Ka-woomph!'._ The huge, bright-blue fireball plummeted to the bed below, raining fiery shards of flaming glass shrapnel throughout the room.

 

 

13\. Great Balls of Fire

 

As the sizzling fragments rained down on Sheppard's back, he huddled face-down on the floor, arms clasped tightly over his head to protect it.  It was the first time he could remember being grateful for a nightmare.  If he'd still been asleep on the bed, he'd never have known what hit him.  He would have been almost instantly burned to death.

 

When he was sure that the debris had finished falling, he began to notice a searing pain in the middle of his upper back, radiating towards his right shoulder.  Realizing that his clothing was aflame, he dropped flat and began rolling back and forth to extinguish it, unfortunately grinding small shards of glass and the still-smoldering remnants of his uniform into the burn.  Jumping up, he brushed the remaining flaming bits off his person.  He then yanked the burning quilt from the bed and began stomping on it, his actions illuminated only by the flames flickering around the chamber.  Just then the hallway light snapped on.  McKay and Zelenka, awakened by the noise, appeared panting in the doorway.

 

"Rodney, get me some wet towels!  Radek, grab the fire extinguisher on the wall out there!"  John flicked off his own lightswitch to cut the flow of electricity to the overhead lamp as he finished putting out the mattress. 

 

"Colonel, are you aware that your back and, um… hair are smoking?"  Rodney asked, wide-eyed.

 

"The _towels_ , Rodney!"

 

Within seconds Zelenka began shooting a stream of fire-suppressant foam near-randomly around the room, hitting burning and non-burning items with equal ferocity.  Glancing at the doorway, John was just in time to catch a wet towel to the face, hurriedly thrown by a panicked McKay. 

 

Peeling the soaking cloth out of his eyes, he drawled, "Thanks, Rodney," sarcastically before wrapping it around his head to put out any embers in his hair.  "Throw one on my back now," he continued, turning to expose his ruined uniform.  McKay obliged, but, loathe to enter the smoky room, tossed it from the doorway.  It struck dead on target much to his surprise, causing Sheppard to hiss as it drove the shards in deeper and the cold water struck his burned flesh.  When the stars cleared from his eyes, he wordlessly snatched a third towel from the scientist before turning to the nearest flame and beating it out wth sadistic glee.

 

"Hey, so pitching's not my forte!"  the scientist responded defensively, swatting at a nearby spark with a towel of his own.  The crackling flames gradually surrendered to their concerted attack, ultimately dying to a soaking-wet smoldering ruin.  Outside the wind could be heard howling around the stone structure, whipping the once-gentle raindrops horizontally into the windowpanes.  The three men stumbled insensate into the reassuring light of the hallway where they paused to catch their breath.  Sheppard leaned forward straight-armed against a wall in a paroxysm of coughing, unable to hold himself upright unsupported, while McKay bent over double, hands on knees, wheezing.  Zelenka just slid to the ground and focussed on taking deep breaths in and out.  As their breathing gradually normalized, Radek and Rodney found themselves staring at Sheppard, whose uniform still had tendrils of smoke curling up from several blackened sites.

 

"That's it," stated John with finality once he had stopped coughing from the smoke inhalation.  Straightening up, he continued,  "We are _all_ sleeping in one room for the duration, and we will take turns on watch."  Gesturing to the rooms, he concluded, "Grab your blankets and pillows; we're going to the great room downstairs."  He then noticed the spots on his jacket that were still enkindled, and rapidly brushed off the charred bits of cloth.  "At least that room has a no-smoking section," he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.  The two badly shaken scientists were unable to argue the logic of the order, and hurried to follow it. 

 

Meanwhile, Sheppard was determined to get to the bottom of the leak.  Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried to the floor above.  Tracing the ethanol line from its attachment on the central stairwell, he rapidly found the small hole in the metal piping directly above the light fixture in his room.  Examining the defect, it was obvious that it had been intentionally made; it was symmetric, perfectly round, with fresh unoxidized, sharp metal edges.  Grimly he pulled out his Leatherman and crimped the line closed.

 

Writing off his own chamber as a loss at least for the night, Sheppard returned downstairs and collapsed into the fourth, unused bedroom on that floor and confiscated its blankets and pillows for himself.

 

When the group had reassembled in the corridor, Sheppard looked them over.  "Everybody ready?  I don't want anyone coming back up here alone tonight.  If you find that you've forgotten something that you simply must have, _wake someone to come back with you._ "  The other men nodded numbly, then the three descended the stairs to the first floor.

 

"Hey, I get the couch!" declared Rodney upon entering the room.  "I have a bad back, and sleeping on the floor makes it excruciating the next day.  Not to mention what it'll do to my carbon-monoxide headache."

 

"Fine, McKay."  John didn't really care, as he doubted that he would sleep much with his burned back, anyway.  "Is that all right with you, Doctor Z?"

 

Radek smiled tiredly.  "I have slept in the back of covered trucks.  At least this floor doesn't move.  And I know where we will be in the morning."  He began arranging his blankets on the ground as Rodney, flashing a triumphant grin, began laying his on the couch.

 

"One last thing; I need help to clean the wound on my back."  Dropping his own blankets unceremoniously to the floor, he sat cross-legged on them and began gingerly peeling off his jacket.

 

Rodney's face blanched to an unhealthy shade of white and Radek set his lips in a grim line as they surveyed the damage.  "Stay there, Colonel; I will retrieve some towels and wet washcloths."  He disappeared down the hall only to rematerialize seconds later with the promised materials.  Kneeling beside the injured man, Radek glanced up at the petrified McKay.  Gently he said, "Rodney, I could use your help here…"

 

"Wha…?  Oh, yeah….sure."  McKay sat next to Zelenka and tried to follow his lead. 

 

"Colonel, this might be easier if you lay flat on your stomach and let us do the work."

 

Sheppard nodded wordlessly and followed his directions, steeling himself in preparation.  Producing a pocketknife, Radek warned, "This may sting a bit," as he began parting the uniform top away from the burnt tissue.  Sheppard winced, but managed not to cry aloud.  However, he couldn't suppress the occasional grunt as the scientist removed shards of glass imbedded in the burn and charred bits of fabric fused to flesh.

 

"Rodney, this would go a lot faster if you could help," suggested Radek, giving McKay a pointed glare.

 

"I…uhhh…" McKay's eyes rolled back in his head as he pitched sideways, unconscious.

 

Sheppard popped up in alarm.  "Rodney?" he demanded.

 

Zelenka released a heartfelt sigh.  "Relax, Colonel.  McKay is fine.  He just…fainted."

 

Sheppard, trying to lie flat again, had to grin.  "Don't you mean 'passed out'?"

 

"No.  I _mean_ fainted.  I think the stress has been too much for him."

 

Radek continued the unpleasant task alone, the stench of burnt flesh filling his nostrils nauseatingly.  He knew he'd finally reached viable tissue when fresh red blood began oozing from the base.  Colonel Sheppard gritted his teeth but would not allow himself to scream as he felt his ruined skin being scraped away by the wet towel.  Dr. Zelenka's face had an implacable, intent stare as he finished cleansing the wound.

 

"Colonel, I am nearly done," reassured Radek as he began applying Neosporin ointment.

 

"That's…good," rasped Sheppard through clenched teeth.

 

By the time Zelenka had finished debriding, disinfecting, and dressing Sheppard's wounds, Rodney was beginning to stir.  Crawling over to him and tapping him lightly on the cheeks, Sheppard caroled, "Wakey, wakey Rodney.  We still need to pull guard duty."  Addressing both men, he continued, "I'll take the first four hours, then you can each take two.  Who wants the shift after mine?"

 

To forestall Rodney's objection to having his beauty sleep interrupted, Radek piped up, "I will be happy to do that, Colonel.  I will take over in three hours."

 

Grudgingly, McKay muttered, "And I'll finish the night," before rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head.

 

The night passed slowly.  Sheppard, admitting to himself that he was exhausted and in pain from his ordeal, and likely to fall asleep on watch if he sat down, busied himself with prowling the perimeter of the first floor, listening to the gradually increasing violence of the storm outside.  First he threw open all the individual room doors so that, if he couldn't always see into the chamber from wherever he was on patrol, he'd at least be able to hear anything out of the ordinary.  _'Of course'_ , he had to admit, _'The gale howling like a banshee outside doesn't really help much.'_    Out of curiosity he pressed his face to a window and tried to stare through the darkness to the path, but found that he couldn't see more than a foot out due to the sheets of rain being driven into the window.

 

He let Radek sleep a little longer than he'd agreed; the man was still recovering from his fall at the cliff, and, whether he admitted it or not, the first aid he'd rendered had been almost as hard on him as it had the pilot.  When Sheppard could no longer maintain his vigilance, he went over to the Czech and nudged his shoulder.

 

"Radek," he whispered.  "Your turn."

 

"Huh? Wha?"  Zelenka fumbled for his glasses on the floor next to his pillow.  Slipping them into place, he stared nearsightedly at John.  "Colonel?  Oh, right.  Guard duty."  He clambered out of bed, blinking in the glow of the flashlight.

 

Sheppard looked at his own watch.  "It's 0330 right now; McKay's due up at 0500.  You gonna be OK until then?"

 

"I will be fine, thank you.  You have allowed me to oversleep.  It is time for _you_ to rest."

 

Sheppard needed no further urging.  Without another word he crawled onto his blankets and shifted prone until he could find a reasonably comfortable position, then blissfully lost consciousness.

 

Thankfully, the remainder of his night was dreamless, and he actually felt somewhat rested when Radek woke him for breakfast the next morning.  The first thing he noticed was the smell of smoke.

 

Wrinkling his nose he groaned, "I'm going to have to see if I can salvage any clean clothes out of my room; my uniform smells like Smokey Bear's shorts after three days in a forest fire!"

 

Zelenka ducked his head sheepishly.  "I am afraid that it is actually 'Version 1.0' of this morning's breakfast you smell.  Rodney started to get hungry near the end of his watch, and so decided that he could prepare a meal unsupervised."  His eyes focussed on an invisible point above Sheppard's right shoulder.  "Did you know that when you let all the water boil away from 'boiled eggs' they develop a brown spot on the bottom just before they explode with some not-insignificant force?"  Looking back at Sheppard and shrugging, he continued, "And that if you scrape the charcoal off burnt toast that it tastes almost edible, especially with fresh strawberry jam?  It seems McKay can destroy objects much smaller than solar systems."  Staring once more thoughtfully into the distance, he noted, "A shame Rodney's cooking cannot be made into a weapon against the Wraith…"

 

John shook his head smiling as he climbed up from his make-shift pallet with a groan.  It was nice to have things back to some facsimile of normal.  He noticed that the storm was still raging unabated, and cocked an ear towards the ceiling.  "Has it been going like that all night?"

 

Radek nodded, "Yes, I believe so.  I now know why this building is so sturdy, if storms like this are anything to judge by."

 

Sheppard let out a low whistle.  "Well, at least we probably won't have to worry about saboteurs in _this_ weather."  He chuckled as a thought occurred to him, "Heck, the red-headed kid didn't even show up to save my skin last night!"

 

"I'm certain that the weather was too bad for his parents to allow him out of the house," Radek replied seriously.

 

"Yes, but I was beginning to picture him as some something between a 'harbinger of doom' and a 'guardian angel'.  Maybe a Harbangel…" mused Sheppard.   Clapping a hand on the Czech's shoulder, he added, "Why don't we go save what we can of breakfast; if necessary, we'll work on 'Version 2.0',"  as the two men limped into the kitchen.

 

John took one look at Rodney obliviously munching on the carbon-coated cardboard squares that had once been bread (but reminded Sheppard of the Carbonite they'd frozen Han Solo in), and went straight for the stove.  Within minutes he had produced three bowls of oatmeal from the stores they had brought with them and set them on the table.  Sitting down, he commented, "There we go.  Real breakfast.  Not that your breakfast wasn't…acceptable, Rodney, but I rather like a hot bowl of cereal on a rainy day like today, don't you?"  He gestured to the window where the wind still rampaged outside.

 

Rodney looked up momentarily from the sheaf of Seinlein's notes he was perusing, and questioned, "Hmmmm?".  The remark suddenly sinking in, he set down his char-broiled bread and examined the steaming bowl in front of him.  "Hmm…" he grunted appreciatively, heaping some sugar on top, then shoveled a huge spoonful into his gaping maw.  Going back to the notes, he gave no more indication that he knew the others were alive, much less in the same room.  After a few moments he grimaced and tossed the scribbled jottings in Zelenka's direction.

 

"Have you looked at this?  It's garbage!"  Rodney indignantly scooped up another heaping spoonful of oatmeal as he waited for Radek to scan through the first page or two.

 

"What, you mean his hand-written theories aren't any good?" asked Sheppard.

 

Zelenka's brows had drawn together in confusion as he flipped through the notes.  As McKay's answer was muffled by a mouthful of porridge, Radek replied, "No.  He means that it is actual garbage.  These notes are completely nonsensical; most have nothing to do with the current project, while those that do are already delineated in clearer form on the mainframe downstairs.  Some of the pages aren't even in the same handwriting."  He plucked a half-sheet from the pile and waved it in the air, "And this, _this_ is a grocery list!"

 

"Excuse me?"  Sheppard frowned.  "Why would Widget fly all the way out here just to deliver a pile of useless paper?"

 

McKay had finally managed to swallow.  Pointing his spoon at Sheppard, he replied, "That's a _very_ good question."

 

The colonel leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes.  "I never did trust that man…"

 

"Yes, but he has not had the time to perform any sabotage; as is his custom, Rodney ran him off in under five minutes."  Radek commented, tossing the papers aside.

 

McKay quirked the corner of his mouth up proudly as he wolfed down some more 'toast' boards.

 

They settled into a comfortable silence as they finished breakfast, until they were startled by a large 'bang' on the wall by the window.  Jumping up to peer out, Sheppard whammed his head on the same pot as the night before with a _'splaangggg'_ , but managed to restrain his cursing until he could see what happened outdoors. _'I really ought to move that pot,'_ he thought as he rushed to the glass. Staring into the storm as he rubbed his head, John let out a low whistle.  "Would you look at that?  We just got hit by a _tree_!"

 

Rodney and Radek were at his side in an instant, craning their necks to see.  "But…that's not possible.  The nearest vegetation is over 300 meters away!"

 

Moving back, he gestured to the window.  "Take a look for yourself."

 

Some elbow-shoving commenced, followed by a muttered, "Oh my…."

 

Turning to the pilot, Rodney wagged a finger, momentarily speechless.  "That…those…are hurricane-force winds out there!"

 

Sheppard nodded, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.  "Yes, I know."

 

"How can you be so calm?" asked Zelenka wonderingly.

 

"Come on; this place has stood here hundreds of years; the walls are two-foot thick stone.  The windows are so recessed they don't even need shutters.  We're probably safer from storms here than anywhere else on the coast." 

 

"What about the security team from Atlantis?"  McKay asked more pragmatically.

 

Sheppard shook his head.  "Even _I_ wouldn't fly a Puddlejumper through this typhoon.  Still,"  he pointed outside at the tempest, "We're relatively safe from attack right now; even that kid wouldn't be out in this stuff.  No one _else_ will be able to reach us, either."

 

Radek nodded slowly.  "I see your point."

 

Going towards the door to the main room, Sheppard continued, "I'm going to make a sweep of the entire building one more time, then I'm going to see what I can salvage from the disaster in my room.  Just…be careful of booby-traps, and stay within shouting distance of each other."

 

As he left the room, Rodney snagged one last piece of burnt toast.  "Why don't we get to work as well?  The sooner we're done making that prototype, the sooner we're out of this death-trap."

 

Zelenka nodded in silent agreement as the pair descended to the basement.

 

14. The Eye of the Storm

 

The next few hours passed swiftly.  Despite his comments about the windows, he personally found it difficult to believe that there were no shutters.  A few minutes of examination of the main control panel by the door resulted in the electric descent of rolled metal shields over all the glass apertures of the building, much to the colonel's satisfaction.  A quick evaluation of his internal makeshift 'sensors' revealed no entry, so he headed to his room to assess the damage.

 

He discovered to his delight that the vast majority of his personal effects had been spared the onslaught of both the fire and the extinguisher.  Most importantly, the paperwork he had spent so much time completing was intact except for the occasional random scorchmark, which in his view leant it character.  With a sigh of relief, he gingerly transported all his belongings into the spare bedroom.

 

Next he decided to check on his charges.  Approaching the basement he could hear raised voices, so he stood outside the partially-closed door to get the lay of the land.

 

"This storm will not last forever, at which time we will be at the mercy of that assassin once again!"  John was surprised to hear the anger in Zelenka's voice.

 

"Radek, you know as well as I do what happens if we jump to conclusions."  McKay spoke with frustrated patience.  "It may have taken the destruction of a solar system, but I _can_ learn!  We _will_ work out that glitch in the prolonged-use simulation before we even _try_ to power this baby up."

 

"The sooner we demonstrate that Seinlein's theories are valid, the sooner we can leave," Zelenka muttered disconsolately.  "You _know_ the prototype will work!"

 

"I am 99.9% sure that it will work.  Let's be 100% before we risk doing the assassin's work for him.  Look at this section of code…"

 

"Fine," Radek sulked, tapping on the keyboard.  "Wait a second…" his voice livened with concern.  "Look there; if we adjust the output linearly…"  The typing became more intense.  "Let us run through the prolonged-use simulation once more." 

 

 _'What do you know?  Maybe Rodney did learn something from Arcturus, after all,'_ thought John as he crept silently back upstairs.

 

As his paperwork was both finished and relatively undamaged, and as they seemed safe from attack for the time being, Sheppard decided to try to find out more about the building where they were staying.  Rolling his shoulders to relieve the pain from his burned back, he went to the library.  He scanned the shelves until his eyes finally alighted on the volume, "Lorton and Bellwick Tower - A History" by Samuel Johnson. 

 

 _'Maybe a relative of that old lighthouse keeper, like the 'Deliliah Johnson' Constable Cleary mentioned.  If so, this might mention any…nuances…the building might have.'_ Pulling it off the shelf, he descended to the first floor where he could be within easy listening distance of the scientists, then sat sideways on the couch, carefully keeping pressure off his right back and shoulder.  He opened the tome and began to peruse his find, noting that there was no dust on it.   _'Seinlein must've read this recently,'_ he mused.

 

"Bellwick Tower is one of the last structures of The Great Warning System still in existence today.  Long since made obsolete by advanced radio and telecommunications, Bellwick stands as a monument to Leopold the Great who, in 2342, decreed the erection of a series of Watchtowers, beginning at the Circle of the Gods and radiating outwards in all directions.  Ultimately every major population center on Deltarra could see one of these beacons.  When the Wraith inevitably came, the Keeper's duty was to light the lamp.  That light could be seen by the next Tower in the chain, who repeated the warning light.  This continued on down the chain until the entire populace was alerted and could seek shelter, thus thousands of lives were saved over the years."

 

"However, with the invention of the radio in 2812, the Watchtowers fell into disuse and were for the most part torn down to make way for modern structures or abandoned.  Bellwick, along with the other Towers along the coast, had served the dual purpose of warning ships at sea of the proximity of the rocky shore, and so stayed active for another century in that capacity.  Once they were no longer needed for that purpose, they too fell into disusw.  Some, like Bellwick were converted to private property."

 

"Boringggg….," lilted Sheppard, flipping to the index.   "Hmmm…blueprints?," he mumbled, flipping to "B".  "No?  How about 'plans'."  Scanning the "P" section yielded no results either.  Tapping a finger to his chin, he tried, "Architecture?" 

 

He broke into a smile when he found what he was looking for.  "Here we go…Architecture, Bellwick Tower."  Flipping to the proper page, he began to read.

 

"Lorton, being a small, isolated fishing village, had difficulty filling the heroic/almost-suicidal position of Keeper.  Rather than resorting to the exorbitant pay scales and rapid turnover of other areas, they developed a unique solution.  As the problem was one of probable culling, they built a 'safe room' into the cliff face itself, with two hidden entrances that were kept secret from everyone but the Lighthouse Keeper and his family.  The first exit was onto the beach below the Tower, the second was into Bellwick itself.  Unfortunately, the ravages of time and the sea had obliterated the seaside approach, while the last Keeper who knew Bellwick's secret, Emil Johnson, was culled along with his son approximately 200 years ago.  The remainder of his family escaped the attack, and their descendants still live in Lorton today.  To this day, the whereabouts of the hidden chamber are lost."

 

"I _knew_ it!" cried Sheppard, slamming the book closed and jumping up from the sofa.  "If it went into the cliff, the entrance _has_ to be in that basement somewhere.  I'll bet _someone_ knows ' the whereabouts of the hidden chamber' and is _using_ it to get in, try to kill us and get out!"

 

He winced as the fist-sized burn on his back reminded him of its presence.  Rolling his shoulder to relieve the ache, he headed for the basement.

 

As he entered the room where the scientists were working, Rodney glanced up from the prototype with a grin.  "Ah, Colonel," he greeted.  "You're just in time.  We're ready to test our trial model."  He rocked back and forth on his heels.

 

Alarms went off in Sheppard's head.  "I thought you still had a few 'glitches' to work out."

 

"Actually, we did," answered Radek, standing up from where he had been working on the device and wiping his hands on a small towel.  "I had wanted to initialize the machine earlier, but Rodney insisted that we work though all the simulations."  Glancing at the computer terminal, he sighed, chagrinned.  "It is a good thing we did; there was a problem with the amplitude equation for prolonged use of the device.  If we had started it when I had desired, and continued to let it run, an overload was inevitable, and this tower would no longer be standing."

 

Sheppard's brows creased together in surprise as he looked from Zelenka's slightly embarrassed expression to Rodney's 'cat-that-ate-the-canary' one.  Wagging his index finger at the two men, he hazarded, "Let me get this straight…Doctor Z, _you_ wanted to run the experiment before all the data was collected….and _Rodney_ insisted on crossing the 'T's' and dotting the 'I's'?"

 

Hands clasped behind his back, McKay chortled, "Yep!" while Radek just looked embarrassed.

 

Sheppard's eyebrows rose.  _'Incredible!  Rodney did learn something from the Arcturus Project!'_   Giving the other scientist a sincere smile, he said, "Rodney, I'm impressed.  There's hope for you yet."  Clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder, he addressed the pair, "So you are now _both_ convinced that this thing will work and not blow apart?"

 

The two men smiled in unison.  "Absolutely," Rodney replied.  Becoming more businesslike, he turned to a nearby table where he retrieved a digital camcorder.  "Now, if you wouldn't mind filming us as we do the trial run, we'll have something we can transmit to the Science Council once the weather clears.  Then it's just a matter of them making the conversion to planetary scale.  And I can get some dinner."

 

"Sounds good," Sheppard replied, taking the camera.  Indicating his shoulder, he commented, "And I wouldn't object to going home a few days early either."

 

"I, as well," seconded Zelenka, at the control console.

 

Standing back against the wall to make certain that the entire room was in the viewfinder, John quickly went over the controls.  Once he was ready, he said, "OK, three…two…one…Action!"

 

Rodney began addressing the camera as Zelenka edged to the background.  "Hello. For those of you who don't already know, my name is Rodney McKay.  And this," he stood aside and gestured to the machine behind him, "Is the prototype 'projection cloak' that we will now demonstrate."  Elbowing Radek to one side, he stood in front of the control console.  "When I hit this switch, the machine will activate.  At that point the room will fade from view, to be replaced by an image of our choosing; in this instance, the same chamber, empty.  Ready?"

 

He waited for both John and Radek to nod, then smiled.  "Go!"  As Rodney pushed the button, the device hummed to life.  Before Sheppard's eyes, both the machine and scientists disappeared, leaving only an empty room. 

 

Moving his head out from behind the camera, Sheppard took in the scene and whistled.  "Wow.  You guys still there?"

 

"Yes, we're still here," responded McKay irritably, abruptly shutting down the machine and reappearing.  "And your inane comment is now on tape."

 

John gestured to the camera, "As is your terse response to it, Rodney.  So, you could hear me, then?"

 

"Yes, and see you.  The device blocks a very limited wavelength spectrum, and then only one-way."  Gesturing to the still-running camcorder, he snapped, "The demonstration's over.  Turn that thing off."

 

Looking at it in surprise, Sheppard replied, "Oh, right," and flicked it off.  Looking back at the beaming pair, he praised, "Nice job, guys."

 

Hands on hips, Rodney stared at the machine in satisfaction.  "Well, that tape plus a copy of out notes and data should convince the Deltarrans to implement this on a wide scale.  We'll take our data back to Atlantis as well; this system cuts the power required to run our cloak in half."

 

Sheppard nodded, impressed.  "Cool."  Handing the camera back to McKay, he added, "Just put together the message you want, and I'll run it into town when we get a break in the weather and send it.  I'll also have Cleary forward a message to have us picked up as soon as possible."  _'Which won't be too soon in my book!'_

 

Putting his hands on his hips, he continued, "We're not out of the woods yet, but I think I've figured out how our kid and our saboteur are getting past the security system.  Seems there's a secret passage from the water to the building that the old lighthouse keepers used to use to escape Wraith cullings. _Supposedly_ the location was lost long ago."

 

McKay shook his head.  "I thought you already looked for something like that."

 

"I did, but in more general terms.  I've been searching for _any_ entrance on the lowest three levels.  _Now_ I'm searching for a secret passage that almost certainly leads here to the basement."  Looking speculatively around the room with narrowed eyes, he muttered, "Probably… the floor…."

 

McKay threw his arms out to shield the prototype.  "You're not moving this machine!  Don't even think about it."

 

Sheppard grimaced.  "Of course not, McKay.  If the device were sitting on a trapdoor, no one could open it from the other side."  He went to the far corner of the room and began stomping on the floor.  "No, it would have to be someplace accessible…"

 

The two scientists watched as he methodically continued tapping out the floor with the heel of his boot, carefully listening for any hollow sound.  Exchanging questioning glances, the pair looked at each other, shrugged, then approached the pilot.  Wringing his hands nervously, Zelenka asked, "Can we help?"

 

Glancing up, Sheppard shook his head.  "No, it would just distract me.  You guys just go on doing whatever you would be doing if I weren't here."  He made 'shooing' motions with his hands and resumed his stomping.

 

"Yes…well…" Rodney turned to Radek.  "How about we go through a few more 'fireups' and record the data?  Then we can get something to eat, I'm hungry."  As they turned back to the device, they heard a pounding on the door upstairs.  Staring at each other momentarily in surprise, the three men rushed for the stairwell.

 

It took only a moment to key in the door code to reveal a wet, bedraggled Sgt. Sparso on the front step.  Gesturing at the sky, which was only drizzling lightly, he shivered, "I only have a few minutes before I have to leave; we're currently in the eye of the hurricane, and Constable Cleary wanted me to convey a message."

 

John jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the living room, "Why don't you come in for a minute?"

 

Looking uncomfortably at his watch, the young man nodded.  "I'd rather not; if I stay it might be for days.  I'd like to be back in town before the winds pick up again."

 

The others crowded around the door to better hear what the drenched young man had to say.  Looking from face to face, he blurted, "The storm has taken out our telecommunication antenna; we won't be able to contact the Ministry to summon your people until this storm is over, we can assess the damage and repair it.  Cleary felt you should know." Gulping, he ducked his head as Sheppard raised an eyebrow.

 

Plastering on an insincere smile, John was perversely glad that the youth hadn't accepted the invitation to come in.  "Thank you for delivering the message.  Tell the Constable that I'll be down once the hurricane has passed to help assess and repair the problems..."  The unspoken threat of, _'And there had better be some serious damage,'_ hung in the air like a weight between them.

 

Shifting from foot to foot, Sparso nodded then took off down the hill towards the village.  Sheppard's lips thinned; he had a feeling that the 'eye' of the storm would soon pass in more ways than one, but they were in for rough weather before they returned to Atlantis.

 

15\. Shocking Developments

 

They were just starting lunch when the rain resumed with a vengeance.  Glancing at the shuttered kitchen window, Zelenka asked, "Do you think that the Sergeant made it back to Lorton?"

 

Sheppard swallowed a mouthful of sandwich.  "Yeah, he had plenty of time.  I'm sure he's cuddled up with a girlfriend in front of a roaring fire."

 

"Sorry, Radek, no fire, no girls; I've got a headache - it sucks," quipped McKay, clearing the table.  "Let's evaluate our data and run the trials we'd planned before we were so rudely interrupted."

 

"Yes.  Why not?"  Zelenka shrugged and followed the other scientist.  "I would also like to go through the 'prolonged use' equations one more time as well."

 

"I'm coming with you; I'd like to find that passage.  I just _know_ there's a trapdoor down there somewhere."  Sheppard tossed his napkin on the table and followed the pair.

 

Within moments Zelenka and McKay were immersed in their equations scrolling across the computer display, and Sheppard was busily stomping out the remainder of the floor, listening unsuccessfully for hollow tones.  As he finished the far corner he shook his head in disgust.  _'Damn.  It's got to be here… somewhere.  Maybe I can find another reference in the Library.'_ 

 

Turning towards the scientists, he announced, "Hey guys, I'm going back and see if I can find any other useful books upstairs.  You all right for a few minutes?"

 

"Yes, yes.  Go.  Somehow we'll manage without you."  McKay waved him off distractedly.  Sheppard shot him a crooked grin before hauling his aching body back to the second floor.  His clean shirt rubbed uncomfortably against the bandage on his burn, which was beginning to itch as well.  Upon reaching the library, he headed for the dusty shelf where he'd discovered the earlier reference.  However, despite examining half the books in the chamber, he found no further mention of the secret chamber in Bellwick Tower.

 

Meanwhile, after about thirty minutes of analyzing data and refining algorithms, Rodney straightened and put a hand to a sudden cramp in his back.  Twisting from side to side, he stretched and asked, "So, Radek?  It's time to run the prototype for a longer time period."

 

Zelenka nodded enthusiastically as he pushed back his chair.  "Yes, yes. Looks good."  Glancing around the room, he continued, "As the Colonel has not yet returned, shall I run machine or camera?"

 

McKay shot him a _'Duh'_ look as he replied, "The camera, of course."  He strode over to the prototype, smoothing his hair with his hands and straightening his shirt.

 

Zelenka shook his head, smiling, as he picked up the recorder.  "Of course." 

 

McKay paused, holding up his index finger, then crouched next to the device.  "Wait a second, though.  Sheppard is convinced that there is a hidden chamber beneath us, right?"  He took off the front access panel and began inspecting the interior of the cloak/ image projector.  "We were upstairs for some time; I want to make sure no one's messed with my machine while we were gone."

 

" _Our_ machine," Zelenka corrected, arms crossed.

 

"Yes, yes.  Our machine.  Whatever."  He waved at Radek just like he had John earlier, then closed up the access panel and stood and brushed off his hands.  "Nothing disturbed.  Shall we?"  He rolled his hand impatiently, gesturing for Zelenka to back up and turn on the camera.  Radek fumbled with the controls for a minute, then nodded that he was ready.

 

"So?  Turn it on!"  McKay demanded, annoyed.

 

"Yes, yes."  Zelenka hit _record._   "All right; it's running."

 

McKay cleared his throat noisily, then addressed the camera.  "Rodney McKay again.  This trial will run the prototype at half-power for thirty minutes.  Ready?  Begin."  So saying, he flipped the switch and promptly vanished from view.

 

Zelenka grinned as he carefully filmed the 'empty' room.  "Marvelous," he chortled.  Like Sheppard had earlier that day, he took his head out from behind the camera to look with his own eyes, then returned to make certain that he had stayed centered.

 

"Can you hear me?" came Rodney's excited question from thin air.

 

"Perfectly," replied the Czech, making sure he was getting it all on tape, frankly amazed at their creation, like a child at Christmas.

 

The professorial tone returned to Rodney's speech as he addressed his invisible listeners.  "All right, as this is a cloak and not a shield, anything can pass through it without the least difficulty."  He addressed the other scientist, "Radek, demonstrate by walking through the field while filming continuously."

 

"Are you certain that is necessary?" inquired Radek nervously.

 

"Come on, it's perfectly safe."  Zelenka could hear the impatience and denigration in McKay's tone.  Swallowing anxiously, he inched into the region of the cloak.  He felt a slight tingling on his skin, and suddenly both Rodney and the device were visible.

 

McKay adopted his lecture persona and addressed the camera.  "This is, of course, the one failing of this device; should the Wraith fly low enough to penetrate the cloak dome, the deception will be discovered."  He waved Zelenka to back up as he continued, "As you can see, the it is an 'all-or-nothing' phenomenon."

 

As Radek slowly backed out of the field, McKay suddenly winked out of view. "Oooh, tickles," he murmured as he passed through.

 

"Nyaah, nyaah, can't catch me!," lilted a young voice behind the Czech.  Radek whirled, still filming, to confront the red-headed boy.  Slowly lowering the camera, his eyes widened in fear at what the child represented.  "Dear God…" 

 

"Hey! You!"  McKay's angry shout came from the vicinity of the cloaking device.  "Radek, grab him!  I can't leave the machine while it's running!"

 

Radek whirled towards him, tossing the camera on a nearby table.  "Shut it down _now_ , Rodney," he ordered as the scamp ran for the stairwell. Zelenka was hot on his heels, yelling back to Rodney, "Disaster follows that boy!" He was only a few steps behind when the boy threw open the ground-floor door.  It had just snicked closed as Radek reached it.

 

Hurtling through, he careened into Sheppard who had run down from the library at the commotion.  The two men tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and indiscriminate cursing in at least two languages.

 

Once they had extricated themselves, Radek looked wildly around the room.  "Where did he go?  Where _could_ he go?  Did you see?"

 

Sheppard grasped his shoulders and turned him face to face in an effort to still the frantic scientist, "Doctor Z, slow down.  See who?"

 

Radek gasped in exasperation, "The _boy_ , of course!"

 

"The boy?," Sheppard stared at the slighter man for a split second before two sets of eyes widened in alarm.

 

"Rodney!" they chorused, then rushed for the stairs to the basement.

 

Crashing into the lab, the pair pulled up short at the sight that met their eyes.  Instead of an 'empty' room, a crackling hemisphere of energy occupied its center, with McKay barely visible within it, wrestling desperately with the prototype's controls, having already pulled the front panel open.  The 'cloak' was visible as a transparent distortion of vision, with streaks of blue lightning dancing haphazardly over its surface.

 

"Don't come any closer!," he ordered without looking up from his work. "This thing's discharging bolts of power at random intervals and in random directions!  I can't control it…yet."

 

Glancing about, Sheppard noted the irregularly linear charred gouges marking the floor, walls, ceiling, and equipment.  Rodney continued, "Radek, I can't shut it down from here; I need you at the computer."

 

"Oh…Right."  Zelenka gulped nervously and crept over to the monitor.  Typing furiously on the keyboard, his movements soon became as frantic as McKay's.  Just then the dazzling electromagnetic fields coalesced, erupting a jagged fountain of intense blue energy into the far upper corner of the chamber.  Small chips of stone exploded out of the impact, causing all three men to duck.  Rodney needn't have, as the flying debris was reduced to dust by the intensity of the energy field surrounding him.

 

"Rodney…" began Sheppard, as he straightened.

 

"Working on it!" snapped McKay

 

Another bolt strafed across the floor, excavating a jagged crevasse through the open door and onto the landing, throwing up a small shower of rock in the process.

 

"McKay, have you tried the 'off' switch?"  John asked only semi-sarcastically, studying the energy sphere with a stomach-flipping sense of deja vu.

 

The astrophysicist didn't deign to respond.  The power controls were fused.  "Radek, try rerouting the power through…" he began.

 

"The secondary coupling.  I know, I know."  The Czech blinked the sweat out of his eyes as another jolt of energy seared past his right shoulder.  "No good.  The readings indicate that the cloak is not the problem; the power is too great _entering_ the prototype."

 

Both Zelenka and McKay swung around to face the small box situated between the generator door and the prototype, aghast.  "Radek, I checked the cloaking device for tampering when we came down from lunch…"

 

"But not the power regulator, because it is so simplistic."  Radek slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand, calling himself _'idiot'_ in Czech.  Rushing  towards the other machine to shut it off, he turned his back to the energy field and failed to notice the coalescence of electromagnetic streams that signaled a discharge was imminent.

 

Sheppard, however, recognized the signs.  He also noted that, if this bolt shot out from the center of the convergence, it would strike Radek full in the back.  Breaking into a run, he tackled Zelenka low across the knees, effectively bringing the two of them to the ground.  Unfortunately he was not quite fast enough, resulting in the discharge glancing across his already burned back and shoulder while in mid-air.  With a wordless cry the world went mercifully black as he struck the cold stone.

 

Zelenka picked himself up and shakily moved to the unmoving man as McKay looked on helplessly.  He placed a trembling hand on the pilot's neck, then jerked his head up in shock to meet Rodney's eyes.  "The colonel has no pulse.  I think his heart has stopped."

 

16.  Annie, Annie, Are You All Right?!

 

Rodney was motionless with shock.  "What do you mean, 'his heart has stopped'?"  His voice rose in panicked pitch during the question until the last word was a mere squeak.

 

Radek didn't answer as he quickly rolled Sheppard flat on his back.  Ignoring the increasingly frequent electrical charges ripping through the air, he raised his fist about a foot above the center of the soldier's sternum and gave it a hard _thump_.  He then placed shaky fingers back on John's carotid, but felt nothing.  Cupping a hand behind the unconscious man's neck and the other on his forehead, he tilted his head back to open his airway.  Crouching down to make the smallest possible target for the energy blasts, he pinched Sheppard's nose shut, took a deep breath, then cupped his mouth over John's to make a tight seal.  Exhaling, he watched Sheppard's chest rise and fall.  A second breath, then he checked for a carotid pulse again.

 

"Oh my God.  I've really done it.  I've killed him this time."  McKay slumped against the console of the cloaking device as his legs became rubber. 

 

"Believe it or not, Rodney," Zelenka repositioned himself, sweeping a finger up John's abdomen until he felt the base of the sternum, then placed the heel of his other hand two finger-breadths up,  "It's not always about _you_."  He began his first set of fifteen compressions, counting silently to himself.

 

McKay watched stricken as Radek worked, then shook himself.  "Right," he muttered.  "Zelenka can't pull the plug; I need to figure this out or we'll _all_ follow in Sheppard's wake."  He leaned on the console straight-armed.  "Think, Rodney, _think_!"  Glancing about, he mentally blocked the sight of Radek determinedly labor on the limp form, taking in anything else he might use.  Lightning coruscated around him, gathering force, then coming dangerously close to his two friends.

 

McKay's eyes widened.  "That's it!"  He turned to the control panel and resumed his earlier furious work on the device.  "The discharges have a pattern, based on the coalescence of electricity on the outside of the dome…if I can modulate the amount that accumulates in any one place…"  His fingers flew frantically before he called out, "Radek, watch yourself - I'm going to try to blast the power regulator!"

 

Zelenka nodded wordlessly, concentrating on his count, _'Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…breath…breath…one, two…'_   He almost lost concentration when a bolt raced overhead causing his sparse hair to stand on end.  It struck the wall only a foot from the intended target, scattering rubble haphazardly.

 

Ducking only slightly, he managed an angry gasp, "It would be easier to perform CPR if I am not electrocuted as well."  He scrubbed the dust out of his eyes with the back of his hand as he shifted for the next rescue breath.

 

"Sorry, sorry, but I had to get an initial vector!"  Turning back to the machine, he continued sotto voce, "Now if I adjust the output here…"

 

The second shot was closer to its objective, and farther from the two men on the floor.  Zelenka paused and checked for a pulse.  "Nothing."  Two full breaths, then fifteen compressions.  He winced as he felt a rib give way under the force of his weight, but continued grimly. _'After all, the instructor did tell us that if we didn't break a rib or two, we probably weren't doing it right…'_

 

The third shot barely cleared his head, causing the outraged shout of "Rodney!"  A sizzling ' _pop_ ' and loud _'bzzzZT!'_ ensued, followed by a whoop of joy from McKay.  For a moment Radek was afraid that something was wrong with his hearing; then he realized that a frightful whine, apparently originating from the power regulator, had suddenly ceased, leaving near-silence in the room.  With all the lethal electricity flying about the chamber, he hadn't noticed that noise at all until it was gone.

 

Two things happened almost simultaneously; Rodney skidded to a halt next to his prostrate teammate, just as Sheppard took a convulsive gasping breath and began coughing.  Radek checked his pulse and found it reassuringly bounding, then sat back on his heels in relief.  Rodney rolled the pilot onto his side to assist his breathing, as Radek was clearly too exhausted to do so.  He unconsciously began patting the rapidly-recovering man's back, chanting, "You're not dead, you're not dead…" over and over again, as if trying to convince himself.

 

"No, I'm not dead, but you're going to wish _you_ were if you don't _quit whacking my burn_!"

 

"Oh, right."  Rodney collapsed into a sitting position, boneless with relief.  Sheppard squinted suspiciously at the two haggard scientists.

 

"Wait a second. I was hit.  What happened to me?  And what happened to your experiment?"  He struggled to sit, ignoring both the dull, familiar ache from his burn and the new sharper pain in his chest.  After a moment, Radek found the wherewithal to give him a hand up.

 

"Yes, Colonel, the shock stopped your heart," he sighed, relieved that the man appeared neurologically intact, if somewhat groggy.  He mentally counted up his compression cycles, "for almost three minutes."

 

John rubbed his bruised sternum speculatively, "So…you did CPR…?"

 

"Yes, Colonel.  It was mandatory training in the first lab I worked at in Czechoslovakia."

 

Sheppard's eyes darted to the still-intact but inert prototype.  "If you were doing that, then how…?"

 

Rodney waved a tired hand in the air; now that the crisis was over, he felt completely drained.  "I did that; I figured out a way to direct the energy spikes.  Then it was just a matter of vector." 

 

John looked over at the power regulator sitting in the corner.  _'It doesn't look blasted,'_ he thought.  Then he noticed the power cord snaking between that device and the one the scientists had been working on; it was neatly severed by one of the lightning gouges.  He whistled softly, then raised an eyebrow, "Nice shootin', Tex.  Maybe this thing has another use we hadn't thought of."

 

Rodney had the grace to look embarrassed.  "Actually, I was aiming at the machine itself…" 

 

"And you almost fried me twice," noted Radek wryly.

 

"Still, it worked, didn't it?" 

 

McKay's eyes suddenly lit with new energy as he jumped up.  "Since I _didn't_ blast it, I can disassemble it and discover how it was sabotaged!"  He was at the device and had its access panel off in the blink of an eye.

 

Zelenka was more concerned about the man he'd just resuscitated.  Clambering to his feet, he held out a hand, "Come.  Let us go upstairs where you can rest."

 

Sheppard stared at the proffered hand with a jaundiced eye, then smiled crookedly.  "No offense, doc, but there's no way you're going to haul me up those stairs.  I'm feeling better by the second; how about I just rest here for a bit?"

 

Zelenka frowned, but acknowledged the truth in his statement.  Pursing his lips, he came to a decision.  "All right.  I will obtain blankets from upstairs."  He bustled away as John carded a hand through his hair trying to wipe away the residual mental fuzziness from the electric shock and his interrupted demise.  He rubbed his chest, aware of a sharp, stabbing pain to the left of his sternum which he recognized as cracked ribs.  _'Hmph.  Zelenka must've pushed pretty hard.  Bu-u-t…a few sore ribs are a small price to pay for still breathing.'_   To distract himself from the pain of the burn, the new discomfort, and his rediscovered mortality, he tried to concentrate on whatever Rodney was busily doing.

 

The physicist was on his knees crouched in front of the machine that was _supposed_ to regulate the amount of power the prototype cloak was fed.  It was a standard safeguard to prevent damaging energy spikes or equally disastrous "brown-outs", much like a UPS for a computer.  This one, however, had been rigged to overload and feed far too much power into the device, ultimately leading to a catastrophic failure and detonation. Watching as the man bent over his work, John was in a reflective mood.  _'He sure has come a long way since Doranda.  He's been listening to Zelenka's opinions, he's taken the time to cross his T's and dot his I's, and this still happened.  Maybe it wasn't completely his fault that the solar system was destroyed.  He's certainly taking our safety into consideration this time.'_  He snorted to himself, _'OK, the fact that someone is trying to kill us might play a role in that decision…'_

 

He was startled from his reverie by the muttered, "Found you!" from the vicinity of the power regulator.  He looked up to see McKay emerging from within the depths of the wiring with a fused and melted copper bar securely clasped in his fist.

 

He didn't feel ready to make the trek to where Rodney sat scowling at the ruined part in his hand, so he asked, "So?  What did you find?"

 

Holding up the misshapen hunk of metal, McKay redirected his line of sight to the injured pilot.  "This," he began, " _Used_ to be a buss-bar and was part of the feedback regulation.  And this…," he pointed to a defect half-way through the piece of slag, "is where _someone_ cut a slit into the metal so that within a few minutes of sustained use, the bar would fail and allow through exponentially increasing power until there was a **very** big bang."

 

Zelenka arrived during McKay's explanation and silently draped a blanket over Sheppard's shoulders.  John nodded his thanks, then inquired, "Why would he do something so easy to trace?"

 

Zelenka walked over and plucked the misshapen slag from Rodney's hand to critically examine it.  He shrugged and answered before Rodney could open his mouth.  "Quickly and easily done in the time we were absent."

 

"Not to mention that, the cloak would have annihilated us and most of the tower above so there wouldn't have been much left to examine," McKay added, not to be outdone.

 

Struggling determinedly to his feet, Sheppard gritted out, "Then that passageway is here; it _has_ to be!"

 

"Um, Colonel?"  Radek was hesitant to interrupt, but pointed to the stairwell.  "I noticed something strange as I returned with the blankets."  Putting an arm beneath Sheppard's elbow supportively, he steered him towards the landing, Rodney following curiously after.

 

When the three reached the stairs, Radek pointed out a deep uneven fissure that ran from the other room into the hallway.  "Stand on the third stair and look there," he instructed.  With some degree of difficulty, Sheppard complied.

 

"What?  It's just a furrow from…wait a second…"  He squinted his eyes to see better, then fumbled in his pocket for his flashlight.

 

"What is it?" asked Rodney irritably from the lab door.

 

Sheppard flicked his light into the newly created crater in the floor, only to have the beam disappear into the depths below.  "I think…that this extends deeper than the stone floor…"

 

"You mean…?"

 

Sheppard, suddenly reenergized, beamed at the two scientists.  "We've found our tunnel!"

 

17.  Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?

 

Easing his aching body to the floor, Sheppard began crawling around, carefully palpating the stonework for defects or hidden catches.  After a moment his hand touched an odd-feeling deformity, which produced a _click_ when pressed at just the right angle.

 

"Got it!" he crowed.  His battered body wasn't able to shift the released stone, so he fixed the two scientists with a chagrinned look and asked, "A little help here, please?"

 

"Certainly, Colonel."  Radek was at his side immediately.

 

"Rodney…?" he asked threateningly.

 

"But my oxygen carrying capacity has been severely…" he caught Sheppard's glare, and hurriedly knelt on the floor next to the other two.  "Help.  Right.  Glad to.  Though you realize straining will make my headache worse."

 

Sheppard refused to rise to the bait.  Between the three of them they managed to pry the trapdoor open enough for one person to slip through.  It had probably been easier to move before it was damaged by the electric discharge.  Sheppard closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  _'I'm not really in the best shape for this right now,'_ he thought.  Given the recent sabotage and the hurricane raging outside, it was a good bet that the perpetrator was _still_ down there, and he'd have to apprehend him.

 

He stared earnestly at the two scientists and asked sotto voce, "Do either of you have your weapon with you?"

 

Two wide-eyed faces indicated the negative.  Radek suddenly brightened.  "Mine is right upstairs," he whispered.

 

"Go get it."

 

Zelenka scrambled up the stairs, returning momentarily with a 9mm in his shaking hand.  Noting the man's unease and unfamiliarity with the weapon, Sheppard wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned.  He unholstered his own weapon, then quietly ordered, "Look, there's likely to be trouble; whoever this is has gone to a lot of trouble and clearly wants us dead.  If _anybody_ but me comes out of this hole, shoot first and ask questions later."  He winced at the cliché as much as his aching chest, but it was precisely what he wanted them to do, so what the heck.

 

"Colonel, are you sure you're able to handle this?  Maybe I should…" Zelenka had gotten protective; not a good survival skill for a combat-naive scientist.  If, no _when_ they got back to Atlantis, John was going to start including the man in the team practice sessions.  But right now he had to keep him from doing something stupid and perhaps fatal - for both of them.

 

"Absolutely not," he interrupted.  "This is _my_ job; you frankly just don't have the training."  He smiled wanly and offered, "But thanks for asking."  
  
McKay was not volunteering to take his place, but interjected in a low tone, "Colonel, you are in no shape to take on an assassin.  Now that we know where the tunnel is, why don't we just post a guard to keep him out of the building?  I'm sure once the storm is over, he'll just leave however he got in.  No confrontation, and everybody lives; it's win-win!"

 

Sheppard's face hardened.  "That's just it," he growled.  "He'll escape.  I want to _catch_ the S.O.B. after all he's done!"

 

Zelenka added his own quiet vote.  "Rodney is right, Colonel.  Why risk further injury or even death when we can control the situation bloodlessly?"

 

John replied grimly, "This is not up for discussion.  Just stay up here and shoot anybody who isn't me."  Snatching the flashlight from where he'd set it on the floor, he directed the beam into the cavity below.  With the trapdoor partially open, he could see rough-hewn stone stairs leading into the inky blackness just beyond his light.

 

McKay, peering curiously over his shoulder, pointed off to the side.  "There…what's that?" he asked insistently.

 

Pointing the flashlight in the indicated direction, he felt Rodney gasp and jump back.  Sheppard had to admit that the skeleton had startled him as well, but he had long ago schooled himself not to react while in a combat situation.  Like it or not, he was headed for a fight.

 

McKay and Zelenka both hovered as he examined the skeleton more thoroughly.  The ancient bones had yellowed with age, partially crumbling to dust in several places, and were evidently the remains of two individuals, an adult and child with the orange oxidized remains of hair still adherent to the smaller skull.  The larger was clutching the smaller protectively even in death, causing Sheppard to narrow his eyes. "I'll bet that's the lighthouse keeper and his son who died in the last culling.  The books I found assumed they were taken by the Wraith."

 

Now was not the time for further speculation.  Handing his light to McKay for a moment, he instructed, "Here - keep this directed on the stairs while I lower myself down."

 

He moved as quickly and quietly as his aching muscles would allow onto the uppermost step.  Retrieving the flashlight from the scientist, he put a finger to his lips for silence, then directed his attention downwards, gun in his other hand pointed in the direction of the lightbeam.  Straight-armed, scanning every direction, he slowly advanced down the stairs.  He found himself in a small chamber containing a sturdy wooden table, two chairs, some foodstuffs and an array of tools and bits of machinery.  He carefully kept his back to the wall as he circumnavigated the chamber, examining every corner as he progressed.  The last thing he wanted was to be jumped from behind.  His heart was making up for its earlier break, beating a staccato accompaniment to the storm he could hear outside, the echoes rumbling up what must be the tunnel to the sea.  After ascertaining that there was no one in the hideaway itself, he slowly moved in that direction.

 

The end was rather anticlimactic.  Near the cave entrance where the door was cracked open ever-so-slightly, a lone figure peered into the storm.  He trained his gun unwaveringly on the man, then commanded, "Put your hands in the air where I can see them, and turn around."

 

The figure straightened in surprise, then carefully followed Sheppard's instructions upon hearing the menace in his voice.  When he was fully facing the colonel, Sheppard smiled sardonically and commented, "Doctor Widget.  Why am I so not surprised?"

 

"Because it was so obvious?" asked the Deltarran, unperturbed.  "I have to admit that you and your friends are some of the _luckiest_ people I've ever met.  I just can't seem to make you die!"

 

"You're telling me you've been here the whole time?"  Sheppard jerked his head back towards the manmade cave.

 

"Please," replied the scientist deprecatingly.  "Give me some credit.  Does that look comfortable to you?"  He indicated the chamber, simultaneously dropping his arms slightly.

 

"Keep them up," instructed Sheppard, gesturing with his weapon.  "Then where?"

 

"Oh, I rented a convenient spare room from a widow who lives next to the Constable's office", as he raised his hands again as instructed.

 

"So _you_ werethe one watching me out that window," Sheppard realized.  Another question occurred to him.  "Was Constable Cleary in on this?"

 

Widget snorted.  "Hardly.  That idiot's as upright as they come.  His only weakness is that he's a little too trusting of Government officials."

 

"Well, you two are going to get some real quality time together once this storm lets up.  Now, move."  Sheppard gestured with the barrel of his 9mm for the pudgy man to proceed back to the main chamber.  They reached the foot of the stairs uneventfully when Widget suddenly came to a halt, turning around.

 

"Go on.  Up the stairs," the colonel instructed, tightening his grip on the gun.

 

Widget pursed his lips speculatively, but didn't drop his hands.  "No…I don't think so…"

 

An accented voice behind Sheppard drawled, "I'm sorry son, but I can't let you do that."  Whirling back the way they'd come, he managed to barely duck the knife that had been about to plunge into his back.  He caught a quick glimpse of a third man standing off to the side; balding, dour-faced, craggy nose, in his fifties…his arms were crossed in disapproval as he glared at the young man who was attacking the Atlantean soldier.  All of this Sheppard assimilated in a heartbeat, then dismissed; the third man wasn't the immediate threat.  Grabbing the knife-arm of his assailant, he pulled him forward and off-balance; apparently he was unused to victims that fought back.  A quick chop to the back of his neck, and the young man was down for the count. 

 

Widget, however, hadn't stood idly by.  Sheppard stumbled when the ratchet impacted the back of his skull, causing him to see stars but not lose consciousness; the bureaucrat simply wasn't that strong.  However, it gave the other man the tactical advantage, and in John's current state he couldn't be certain he'd win this fight.

 

"Hold it right there."  The Colonel was both thrilled and irritated to hear Rodney's voice ringing through the room.  _'Can't ANYONE follow orders?'_ flashed through his throbbing skull.  McKay's shouted "I _mean_ it!" was followed by a gunshot that ricocheted off the solid stone wall.  Recovering his balance, Sheppard stood and directed his flashlight at the tableaux; Rodney, grim-faced, holding a gun on Widget, who still had the metal tool in his hand.  At their feet was the still-unconscious second assailant, face-down on the floor.

 

Bringing his own weapon to bear, Sheppard ordered, "Drop it and put your hands back up."  As the smarmy scientist hesitated, he added, "I won't ask twice."

 

Widget's face contorted in fury as he dropped the rod and raised his hands, a fact that delighted Sheppard because it meant that the man had run out of surprises.  "OK, now where's the old guy?" he demanded.

 

"Who?" replied the Deltarran sullenly.

 

"The bald man who shouted the warning when your ' _friend'_ attacked," Sheppard explained carefully through gritted teeth. "Have him come out where I can see him."

 

Widget snarled, "I don't know what you're talking about.  One minute I've got your full attention, the next you're incapacitating my hired help.  I figured you must have heard his clumsy footsteps."

 

Rodney shrugged, shining his light around the chamber in search of something.  "Aha!" he chortled.  Trusting Sheppard to guard the criminals, he tucked his weapon into his pocket and went to the wall next to the stairs to hit a switch.

 

Sheppard blinked at the sudden onslaught of light, but managed to keep his weapon trained steadily on the overweight Deltarran.  "That's much better," commented McKay.

 

"Have Zelenka come down here with some rope.  I want to get these guys secured."

 

Rodney went to the stairs and cupped his hands, "Hey, Radek!  Bring rope down here so we can tie up the bad guys!  Boris and Natasha here."

 

Within minutes the Czech was in the cave with two coils of rope and a knife.  Sheppard, keeping both 'bad guys' in front of his weapon, instructed, "Bring those two chairs over here; we'll start with Widget."

 

Radek complied gleefully, and the angry murderer was soon securely bound.  Sheppard kept his gun trained on the other man as he turned him over with the toe of his boot.

 

"Sgt. Sparso!" cried Radek, expressing the surprise they all felt.

 

"Get him into the other chair," ordered the colonel.  Between the two of them, McKay and Zelenka managed the task.  Seconds later the young deputy was secured as well.  They finished just as he began to regain consciousness with a groan.

 

"Why don't you two check out the rest of this cave?  I'd like to know where the deputy was hiding when I first came through, and I'm sure I saw another man down here." 

 

"You're insane.  There is no third man!  Perhaps it really is better to be lucky than smart…" commented Widget ruefully.

 

Sheppard holstered his 9mm and checked the security of the ropes as the younger man became coherent enough to question.  Satisfied with their bindings, he stood in front and began to interrogate his prisoners while Zelenka and McKay searched the room.  His aching head, burning back and snapping sternum tempted him to throw out the Geneva Convention and Miranda to boot, but he managed some restraint.  However, he admitted to himself that he'd like nothing better than to beat the story out of them then continue 'til they were bleeding senseless pulps.

 

"Why'd you do it, Sparso?  I can understand Widget here," he snarled as he gestured disparagingly at the older man, "But why you?"

 

"Money, why'd you think?" the no-longer-shy youth snarled back.  "The best prospect I have for a job in this stinking two-bit town, is 'Constable' when Cleary retires, and do you know how little that pays?  How am I supposed to support a family on the salary of a 'public servant'?"  He growled the last phrase.

 

"Not my problem," replied Sheppard grimly.  "So while Cleary and I were out inspecting your handiwork at the cliff edge…"

 

"I was busy rigging a few other surprises while I 'guarded' the place."  Sparso was gleeful at this revelation, almost daring Sheppard to react violently.

 

"And we would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for that rotten red-headed kid!"  Widget spat.

 

Sheppard leaned casually against the tabletop, attempting to mask the fact that he was barely able to stand now that the adrenaline rush was ebbing.  "Yeah, about that boy…who is he, anyway?  Was he down here with you?"

 

"Nah, never seen him before and I hope I never see him again.  He was a big problem.  Kept drawing you away from our traps just in the nick of time."  The bound scientist was not pleased.

 

"No one else here, Colonel," reported Rodney, eyeing his colleague seriously, then brightening, "But we found the secret compartment Sparso was hiding in just behind the stairs."

 

"No older man with a drawl?"  The way everyone stared at him as if he'd lost his mind encouraged him to permanently drop that line of questioning.  "All righty, then.  Let's go upstairs.  We'll send the Constable down once the weather clears."

 

Zelenka was hesitant.  "Aren't you afraid they'll get loose?"

 

"Not really.  We'll check on them from time to time, and this storm is likely to be over soon.  They can't escape through the tunnel anyway.  Their only way out is through me, and I'm in a mood for target practice."  He silently added to himself that if he didn't lie down soon, he'd fall down, and he couldn't afford to show weakness just yet.  His eyesight was narrowing to a tunnel, his chest burned with each breath, and his legs had turned to warm Jell-O. 

 

He required the assistance of both Radek and Rodney just to make it up to the basement.  Faced with the interminable effort of climbing another set of stairs, he just shook his head and suggested, "Maybe I'll just rest on those blankets in the lab for a minute…"

 

"Sounds good to me," grunted Rodney, making a show of how heavy Sheppard was.

 

"Nice," was the sarcastic reply, but having barely made it to the bedding, within seconds he was both supine and unconscious.

 

Zelenka retrieved more blankets to cover the slumbering form, then stared at him in dissatisfaction.

 

McKay, noticing this, sighed exasperatedly, "All right, Radek.  What's wrong now?"

 

"I am…displeased…with the arrangements downstairs.  It is too easy to escape."

 

"I'm sure the colonel knew what he was doing," objected Rodney, reluctant to return to the cave or have anything to do with the prisoners.

 

"The colonel was practically unconscious; I doubt seriously that he was…'thinking straight', as you put it."

 

"Well then, what do you propose?" snapped Rodney irritably.

 

A sly smile spread across Radek's visage.  "Oh…I have a few ideas…"

 

18.  Aftermath

 

"So that's pretty much my part of it," finished Sheppard to the group gathered at his bedside.  Weir had decided to hold the debriefing in the infirmary once the Colonel had recovered enough to participate. He was propped up on pillows with Weir, Zelenka, and McKay scattered in chairs around the cot.  "When I woke up next, I was in the Jumper headed home."

 

"Rodney?"  Weir turned expectant eyes towards the astrophysicist who put down his latest snack, a Nanaimo bar, and happily took up the tale with a full mouth.

 

"Well, Radek rigged their restraints with wiring; if they wriggled too much trying to free themselves, they'd get a nasty shock.  Payback I suppose."  McKay judiciously 'forgot to mention' the part where a very dangerous-looking Czech had informed their captives that the device would electrocute them.  _'So, Zelenka's prone to a little exaggeration…'_  

 

********

 

The small, disheveled, _angry_ man scowled at the prisoners as he finished the wiring harness, which was attached to a heavily-insulated cable that disappeared up the stairs. Without a word he then produced a sharply edged grayish clay bar which he gingerly set on the floor in front of them.  Propping a wide but light wooden board across it, he ran alligator clips attached to a small electric device, then carefully placed the Deltarrans' feet on the angled board.  He made a big production of checking all the leads, then stood, arms folded across his chest, and addressed them.

 

"After the suffering you have caused myself and my friends, I am disinclined to stay in your presence any longer than absolutely necessary.  However, I am equally averse to allowing you to escape.  Therein lies the quandary, and here," he gestured to the apparatus he'd just jury-rigged, "Is the solution."

 

He pointed at the wires he'd strung over their bodies.  "Those leads are connected directly to the main generator in the basement.  If any two wires should touch in your inevitable struggles to free yourselves, you will both be instantly electrocuted."  He silenced their objections before they began by raising a hand.  He then indicated the board their feet rested on; "That is a powerful plastique explosive we call C-4 with a pressure switch rigged to the platform beneath your feet; if you apply too much force, it will trigger a detonation that will leave barely enough tissue for DNA identification."

 

The prisoners' faces paled markedly during his exposition.  Widget finally found his voice as he sputtered, "You…you can't _do_ this!"

 

Radek's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he refused to reply.  Instead he produced a small, black box from a pocket and carried it to the entrance to the tunnel leading to the sea.  Flipping a small switch set in its side, he leapt backwards as a red light began blinking.  Striding silently past the bound Deltarrans, he activated a second box at the base of the stairs before joining McKay at the top.  Turning back one final time, he added as an afterthought, "Oh, and those devices I activated at both chamber exits?  Plastique rigged to proximity alarms - if you get too close… _BOOM!_ "  He bugged his eyes and splayed his hands in demonstration, before caroling, "Do try to be good until the police arrive.  But, if you can't, I'm certain we'll find enough resultant bits later."  The two men hoisted themselves out of the hole and back to the basement above.

 

Once safely out of the criminals' hearing, McKay turned conspiratorially to his compatriot, whispering "Where in the world did you get the C-4?  And where'd you find the time to rig pressure switches and proximity detonators?  We weren't authorized to bring any of that with us."

 

Radek sat on the floor next to the slumbering Sheppard, shoulders silently shaking; it took Rodney a moment to realize that the Czech was quietly laughing.  Crouching next to him, he snapped irritably, "Want to let me in on the joke?"

 

It took a few minutes, but Radek's mirth slowly calmed to a low chuckling, at which point he wiped his eyes and addressed the impatient McKay.  "Rodney…I don't have any of those things."

 

McKay blinked.  "What?"

 

"I lied, Rodney.  I rigged up a couple of blinking-LEDs to 9-volt batteries inside the boxes - there is no explosive.  The 'C-4' is some artist clay I noticed earlier in the hall closet.  And the wire harness is only hooked to a low power converter; enough to give them a nasty shock but little more…I think."

 

Rodney gaped, then slowly a smirk spread across his face.  Clapping Radek on the back, he chortled, "Well done!"  His brows then creased in concern, "But…won't they figure it out?"

 

"Not before we notify Constable Cleary and they are in his custody.  Listen - even now the storm is letting up."

 

Rodney cocked his head, then nodded in agreement.  The day was finally looking up.

 

****************

 

Radek interrupted, "I felt it was the least I could do."  He, too, left out the remaining 'minor' details.  "They remained absolutely stock-still until the storm was over and I could get to the Constable's office for help."  He still remembered the disappointed look in Cleary's eyes when he discovered that one of his own men had been an accomplice, and the flash of fear on the prisoners' faces followed by chagrin as he had kicked the box at the foot of the stairs.

 

"Wicket and Sparrow were being hauled to jail just as the Deltarran Ministry of Science arrived to examine our work," McKay continued, blithely mangling the felons' names.  No one objected.  "They were quite impressed with our prototype and promptly collected it with all of our original data."

 

"Of course, we have copies of everything in our laptops.  We each made a set in case the Deltarrans confiscated one.  And I have an additional copy on my USB pen-drive"  Radek interjected, and produced a tiny chip from his pocket.

 

Weir was confused.  "But I thought they agreed from the start that we would have full access to the results of the work?"

 

"Yeah, well you lose some of your 'trusting spirit' when you discover a _member_ of the Science Council is trying to murder you."  Sheppard noted, obviously pleased with the scientists' caution and foresight.

 

"About that…" Rodney waved his index finger up and down.  "The Council was extremely apologetic about the whole experience.  I have the feeling that Widget won't be seeing the light of day for…quite some time."  He tapped his own skull, "Still, the constant headache and dulled sensorium will be with me for a few months, too."

 

Sheppard had to smile at Rodney's pleased expression.  The whole group had been through hell, yet _somehow_ managed to survive.  His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him.  "The skeletons…"

 

"Will be given a proper burial," replied Zelenka, suddenly serious.  They are believed to be the lighthouse keeper and his son, whose relatives still live in the village."

 

Sheppard nodded; he was glad to hear that they would be cared for, after they had cared for so many.  He suddenly found himself yawning.

 

Rising from her seat, Dr. Weir smiled.  "I think that's our cue to go.  Colonel, get some rest.  I want to see you back on your feet as soon as possible; we need you."  She nodded once reassuringly, then strode out of the room to attend to other matters.

 

Radek and Rodney stood to leave as well, but Sheppard interceded.  "McKay, you got a minute?"

 

Rodney nodded, but didn't resume his seat.

 

"I will see both of you later," stated Zelenka as he continued out the door, leaving them to speak privately.

 

After he was gone, Rodney folded his arms across his chest.  "And what can I do for you, Colonel?"

 

Sheppard picked at a loose thread on his blanket, then met the scientist's eyes.  "Look, Rodney, I just wanted to say…well, I was really proud of the work you did back there.  You double-checked your data, you didn't jump to conclusions, you waited on the actual experimental trials until you were sure they were safe…hell, you even listened to Radek!  Just…good job.  It was a pleasure working with you, even under such trying circumstances."

 

McKay stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  "So…you trust me again."  The statement was also a question.

 

Sheppard chose his wording carefully, making sure to mirror Rodney's apology after Arcturus.  With a slight nod, he replied, "My faith in your abilities has been restored."

 

McKay didn't even try to suppress the grin that split his face.  Clasping his hands behind his back, he bounced on his toes.  "I'll just go help Radek evaluate the data we got from our trials."  With that, he exited the room.  John wasn't certain, but he thought he heard whistling going off down the corridor.

 

He shook his head and smiled; he might still have the occasional nightmare about Doranda, but they would be that - _occasional_.  And, like all nightmares, they would gradually decrease in frequency until they were only a memory.

 

Reaching to his bedside table, he picked up the book that he'd been reading.  When he'd been evacuated from Bellwick Tower, the medical team had actually transported him with the blankets he'd collapsed on in the basement.  Upon arriving in the infirmary, Beckett had found the volume tucked away in the folds of the bedding and set it aside for him. "Lorton and Bellwick Tower - A History" wasn't his usual choice of reading material, but it _had_ helped save their lives by mentioning the secret tunnel.  As such, it was a perfect souvenir, like the pot that had rung his bell…twice…he'd hung on the wall over his desk.

 

He flipped it open to the center section of photos; when he had been interested in the layout of the lighthouse, pictures of the village's founding fathers were the last thing he was likely to study.  Now he scanned the pages, confident of what he would find.  Indeed, a moment later the visage of "Emil Johnson, Watch-Keeper, and his son Tyler" stared up at him out of the page. 

 

"Tyler, huh?  At least now I know your name," he muttered, staring at the red-headed boy that had thwarted Widget's murder attempts so many times.  "And Mr. Johnson."  The man in the snapshot was somewhat younger than the one he'd seen in the cave, and still had wispy, red hair, but it was undoubtedly the same person.  "After saving your village 6 generations ago, you stuck around to save us."  He was a little embarrassed about addressing a book, but it seemed right. "I just wanted to say…thanks.  Maybe now you can rest in peace."

 

He yawned again, unable to keep his eyes open.  Setting the open book back on his nightstand, he rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his ears.  In so doing, he missed Tyler's wink and cheeky grin.

 

Fin

 

 


End file.
